C'est La Vie
by Veinne
Summary: 'Snark, cynicsm and an undeniably selfish heart, all in one person. Really,' Holly thought sarcastically, 'what more could people want in Artemis Fowl? ' Drabbles.
1. Stalker

**Hey, those looking for the original first chapter, it's been made into a separate oneshot called Missed Opportunities because I got a complaint from a reader that apparently, it's "way too long for a drabble".**

**Disclaimer: Not Eoin Colfer.**

* * *

><p>"Hey Kelp, want to join us for a drink and maybe a game of Truth or Dare later after duty?" someone shouts. Grub thinks it might be Private Verbil. It takes a moment for him to realise that Chix is talking to Trouble and not him.<p>

Figures, really. Grub wonders why everyone always seem to take to serious old Trouble so much and not him. Pfft, like they know anything about how _fabulous_ Grub is.

Trouble Kelp and Chix Verbil have never gotten along much, but Grub supposes that Trubs doesn't have any _real_ friends to mingle with. Chix probably just wants more people to drink with. Pity too, Grub might've actually consented if they'd bothered to ask him.

Truth or Dare was actually a Mud Man game, but since it was relatively harmless compared to other games, it'd been observed by fairies and eventually adopted by fairy culture. Well, it wasn't _harmless_, per se, but only about five in six-thousand games Mud Man games were harmless (or so the research says), so Grub doesn't mind.

Major Trouble Kelp nods, and Grub frowns momentarily. Grub, after all, _is_ the more fabulous and outgoing brother. That silly sprite Verbil should be _begging_ for him to join them for drinks, not asking his monotonous old brother.

Grub decides to follow them to the fairy bar down the street from the Police Plaza. Grub likes to think that even if Trouble is _biologically_ the older brother, Grub does tend to be maturer by mental development and therefore should take care of Trouble.

That is, unless Trouble is in actual trouble (get it? Grub has such a wonderful sense of humour), then Grub would gladly sit back and relax. After all, Trouble _never_ seems to get reprimanded by their dear mother or any of the higher-ups. A good scolding would do him good, Grub thinks.

After their shift ends, Grub sneakily uses his stealthy ninja skills to follow the large group of LEP officers down the street. In fact, the entire floor of people seem to be there, except him! They probably just weren't able to deal with his wondrous skills. Jealous, the lot of them. Grub sniffs in disdain at having to deal with these green-eyed creatures.

Even if tomorrow is a public holiday in Haven and therefore the team is at perfect liberty to have alcoholic beverages, Grub can't help but be a little disappointed in their lack of integrity. Really, think about what the citizens will think, seeing the best of the LEP (well, Grub is undoubtedly the best, but they come close) staggeringly drunk in a bar?

He is startled from his contemplation at a shady corner in the bar when they start their first round of Truth or Dare. Grub leans forward subconsciously. Perhaps he could get some dirt on the other officers, earn himself a promotion or something.

"Major Kelp, truth or dare?" Verbil asks, with an impish grin.

"Truth," Trouble is already a tad bit drunk. Grub knows that if he'd been a hundred percent sober, Trouble would no doubt have chosen dare just to prove how utterly _daring_ he is.

Much too rash and irresponsible to be promoted to Major, Grub thinks. Probably stole that promotion from right under his feet. To be sure, Grub would first have to be promoted to Captain and then Lieutenant before arriving at the rank of Major, but that doesn't matter. Trubs has always gotten the undeserved attention that Grub should've received.

"Would you rather be fired from the LEP, or have ol' Grubs kicked out?" Verbil asks, leaning forward with anticipation. Grub snorts. Evidently Private Verbil's lack of intellect was the reason he'd been demoted from Captain. Grub is about to down another drink when-

"Be fired from the LEP," Trouble answers immediately after recovering from a drunken stupor. Grub blinks. Oh.

Private Verbil leans in to whisper something in his brother's ear with a smirk. Grub wishes he could read lips, or that lip-reading had been included among the gift of tongues. That would undoubtedly be a useful skill. The ancient fairies were all so silly and stupid compared to Corporal Grub Kelp.

"Though if he did something stupid and got into the mess himself," Trouble suddenly says loudly, as Verbil sends shifty looks towards his table. Grub gets the distinct feeling that his sneaky cover has been blown. "I wouldn't save his skinny butt for all the gold in the ransom fund."

Grub frowns. Big brothers are supposed to protect little brothers! He disregards what he says earlier about mental maturity. Trouble is older _biologically_, and science never lies!

He's going to tell Mummy about this. Maybe he'll leave out the part where Trouble actually said he _would_ save his butt.

* * *

><p><strong>Chix is referred to here as Private Verbil (and at times just Verbil) because it's in Grub's point of view, and they don't exactly get along. Grub's a bit too whiny and Chix is a bit too trouble-making. This is set at the point when Trouble's been promoted to Major but Root hasn't died yet.<strong>

**Also, didn't expect this to turn out this long either.**


	2. Sentiment

**Disclaimer: I'm not Irish, rich and a genius with words. In short, I do not own Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

><p>Mulch Diggums is not a sentimental dwarf.<p>

He doesn't care for many, and unless there was a bountiful reward in return for his services, he wouldn't bother giving them the time of day. He didn't even have that very affectionate feelings for his partner-in-non-crime, Doodah Day.

Well, he likes Day well enough to work with him (though to be sure, Mulch doesn't have to like people much to work with them), but he certainly would not bother with saving his sorry butt at three o' clock in the morning.

He would slam the door in his face, take a good nap (preferably until two in the afternoon) and calmly inquire after his partner's health perhaps the next year or so. After all, Doodah Day is a pretty snarky ex-criminal. A bit too much like Mulch to like. As his old granny used to say, before she'd died painfully in the washroom, _opposites attract!_

There is a short list of people that he cares about well enough to help out without pay or any form of rewards (but just because he would be willing to in a dire situation doesn't mean he wouldn't _ask_, after all). They could probably be counted on one hand. He'd hate to admit it, but the majority of them seem to be on the LEP.

It's funny, really, how many cops an ex-criminal is capable of befriending. The dwarves at the bar would make fun of him, but typically Mulch Diggums does not let the world know about his list.

It's much easier getting the odd job here and there (okay, maybe he isn't an _ex_-criminal, per se) when the dwarves believe his nonsensical lies about being the only dwarf in existence to ever outsmart the infamous Captain Holly Short _and_ Commander Julius "Beetroot".

And so it is believable evidence in regard to Mulch Diggum's list of friends and the care he holds for them when there is a knock at his door in three o'clock in the morning, and instead of slamming the door, this is the conversation that transpires:

"Foaly, what in Frond's name are you doing at my door at two in the bloody morning?"

"It's three. But listen, Holly's in trouble."

"Let me go get my pants."

"Please do, my eyes are scarred for eternity."

"Shut it, donkey."

* * *

><p><strong>I love Mulch.<strong> **Also, finally a chapter short enough to be considered a drabble! Huzzah.**


	3. Hacker

**Disclaimer: AF is owned by the one and only Eoin Colfer, not me.**

* * *

><p>"Hey Holly, I was wondering if you were free this Friday night?" Commander Kelp's voice sounded over her fairy communicator. The static buzzed loudly, making it hard to concentrate. "I know a good bar down the street from Police Plaza."<p>

Holly frowned. The reception on the fairy communicators usually was great, no matter how deep underground Haven was.

"Trouble, the last date we went on, we were both bodily thrown out of a crunchball game. I don't think it's going to work," Holly said. "Besides, I heard you were ogling Lili Frond the other day in the office."

"It's not a date," Trouble said persuasively. "There'll be a bunch of other elves there too, just regular LEPrecon officers. Come on, be a good sport, Holly."

"Well..." Holly said hesitantly, pondering it over. "Maybe? I'll have to check in with Root-"

Suddenly, the line cut and Holly was left with a suspiciously static buzzing in her ear. She tapped her foot, rubbing her temples in frustration.

Her neighbours wondered vaguely who the lunatic in the next flat was, to be screaming so shrilly.

* * *

><p>The next Sunday, Artemis answered to an impatient knock at the door. He stalled by the hallway, wondering warily if he should call for Butler instead. After all, you never know when assassins might show up.<p>

"Artemis Fowl, you open up the door this instant!"

Well, not an assassin then. Or perhaps it was? Captain Holly Short's intentions certainly weren't friendly this time around. Artemis eventually decided that not answering would lead to more serious repercussions, and opened the door cautiously.

"What were you doing messing with my_ fairy communicator_?" she screamed, her face turning an interesting shade of puce. Artemis wondered vaguely if her facial colour could change as much as Root's used to.

"You don't know that it was me that did that," he said, taking a subconscious step back away from the fuming elf.

"_Bullshit_, Artemis! Absolute, D'arvitting-_bullshit_!" she shouted, flailing her arms around and throwing a strong punch at his shoulder. Artemis rubbed it, groaning. This was going to bruise. "I should _never_ have given you a fairy communicator to toy around with!"

"Ah, but how else would we stay in touch, Captain?" he asked, smirking. Might as well go out with a bang, he figures.

"D'arvit! You _skunkbag_, Artemis Fowl! You green-eyed, irritating_ skunkbag!_"

"I wasn't jealous," he said, frowning. Trouble Kelp was way too _stocky_ and too much of a goody-two-shoes for Holly. He was doing it for her sake, really.

Holly snorted.

"I wasn't!" he insisted indignantly, glaring at Holly. She'd grown out her crew cut a little so that it touched the top part of her ear, he realised. It looked pretty on her, he thought.

"Whatever lets you sleep at night, Arty," she said, in a sickeningly sugared voice, her dangerously glinting eyes the only sign of her anger.

"At least I don't ogle Lili Frond in the office," he said smugly.

Butler comes down the stairs, wondering about the commotion, and is greeted by the sight of Artemis swearing as he nursed his bleeding nose.

* * *

><p><strong>Please point out all mistakes. Unnecessary flames will be snorted at and extinguished.<strong>


	4. Clarification

**Disclaimer: My initials aren't E.C., and I'm certainly not Irish.**

* * *

><p>"Artemis..." Holly said hesitantly, crossing her arms as if to protect herself from unseen dangers.<p>

"Yes, Captain?" Artemis answered innocently, blinking as he struggled to see under the bright lights in Haven. He was more used to the natural light from the sun than this artificial brightness underground.

"You know, we never really discussed your... _behaviour_ when you were suffering from the Complex," she said, frowning as she rubbed her arms.

"Ah," was all he said, as he leaned back in his chair. He fervently hoped that Foaly or Mulch might abruptly burst into the room rudely like they always did and end this awkward conversation.

"Well?" she said, her impatience shining through her frayed nerves. The only time Artemis had seen her being patient was when he was a bundle of nerves during the Complex and she would stay patiently by his bedside, coaxing him gently out from his shell.

"Well what, Captain?" he asked, putting on a calm facade he hoped she would not be able to see through. "Which part of my behaviour during the Complex do you wish to discuss? The obsession with numbers, the paranoia?"

Holly snorted. He wondered when he had gotten so horrible at lying, or perhaps it was just Holly that could see through his neatly-strung lies.

"I want to talk about your other personality, Orion," she said flatly, deciding to humour his clear avoidance of the topic. "And his obsession with me."

"He wasn't _obsessed_ with you," Artemis said, trying to stall her. "He just called you _fair maiden_ perhaps a few times-"

"No, he called me fair maiden three thousand and fifty-four times. I'll get straight to the point here, Artemis, since you clearly tend to veer off topic," she snapped. "Orion said you shared his feelings, and after all, Orion is a _part_ of you."

"Yes, a side of me that I tended to cast off into the corner since he's practically useless, as you pointed out during the siege," he said.

"D'arvit, Artemis, _answer the question_," she said emphatically, gripping on his arm roughly. That was probably going to bruise.

"You didn't ask any questions, you just stated a fact," he clarified. A vein pulsed on Holly's temple and he hurried to finish the rest of his sentence. "But yes, Orion did say that I shared his... _feelings_ for you."

"And is it true?" she pressed, though her face was expressionless, as though she was repressing all of her feelings.

"_Partially_," he said hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and braced himself for a long speech. "Orion is a hopelessly romantic, hormonal, emotional part of me. Essentially, he's the parts of me I've always pushed aside because I thought they were rather useless."

"When the Complex worsened and he surfaced, he was kind of.. stretching his feet a little, you know? Throwing a romantic flair on everything. And you were the nearest female around, and I don't know if you've figured this out, but you're sort of attractive," he said calmly. That was the way to deal with this, he told himself. Cool and collected.

"So naturally, he romanticised everything and turned a severely dangerous situation into some twisted version of a sappy romance novel," he said blankly, removing all emotion from his voice.

"I'm sorry if he hurt your feelings, Holly, I really am," at this, he let his sincerity seep through. He really _was_ sorry, after all. Orion has screwed up so many organised and tucked away feelings.

"So what did he mean when he said that you shared his feelings?" she said, with similar blankness. Fronddamnit, she would _not_ stay away from that topic, would she? Tuck away the emotions, Artemis. Tuck them far, far away from prying elfin eyes.

Artemis hesitated a little.

"Naturally, I hold you in a highly respectful and admirable light," he said hesitantly. She brightened a little. "I suppose Orion misinterpreted that as something.. _more_."

"Orion, who is, I might remind you, a _part_ of you, misinterpreted your feelings?" she said skeptically.

"Yes," he said firmly. He thought he saw her ears droop a little, but he must've been mistaken. She can't, after all, be _disappointed_, can she?

"Oh," was all she said for a moment. "Well, see you then, Artemis. Stay out of trouble."

Artemis frowned at this abrupt ending of their conversation. Her words seemed disjointed, emotionless, as though it was just a reflex and she wasn't putting any thought in them. As he watched her retreating back, he couldn't help but wonder if he really should've lied.

Perhaps if he'd told the truth, this aching feeling in his gut would temporarily vanish.

* * *

><p><strong>Kind of irked that Colfer promised us that they'd "talk later" about Orion's affection for Holly, but in the next book Artemis is just wham, healed and there's <em>absolutely no <em>****_clarification! _Seriously.  
><strong>


	5. Victory

**Thanks for all the reviews, including a (slightly terrifying) one from Ru-Doragon that pointed out a flaw in the title. Thank you for that! (by the way, sorry if it irks you, but I don't put strings of thoughts in quotation marks)**

**& a shoutout to Lli, who is one of the best AF fanfiction writers I have encountered! You're a great inspiration.**

**Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer I am not.**

* * *

><p>"E5," he said intently, leaning forward subconsciously with anticipation. Yes.. finally, after so long-<p>

"Miss," a smirk. How infuriating.

"E6!" he shouts.

"It's my turn," open mockery now. He feels like tearing his hair out. "B4."

"...Hit," he murmurs, ducking his head to hide his shame. Oh, how the great have fallen, indeed.

He ignores the smirking face before him, the calculating eyes. There was, after all, still a chance for victory.

"E6," he said firmly, forcing himself to focus.

"Hit," a frown. He pumped his fist triumphantly- this earned an amused glance.

"Don't judge," he sticks out his tongue.

"Very mature," a roll of the eyes, but there is a glint that he recognises. The hunt is on.

Soon there is a flurry of words, eyes trained intently upon the board and minds whirring to keep up with their movements. Reverse psychology, or double reverse psychology? Possibilities, so many possibilities.

They continue on like that, glare after glare, each individual set upon winning the game, until finally-

"D7," a shout, triumphant and smug. He is tempted to say "miss" just to see his reaction, but something about the upward quirk of his opponent's lips makes him pause. There is a true, genuine smile on his opponent's face.

"Hit," he concedes, grumbling reluctantly as he shuts the board.

"Don't be a sore loser," there is a taunt.

"Shut it, criminal," he jabs, frowning.

"I'm in medical care, you really shouldn't be causing me distress like this, Foaly," the boy sitting across him tuts.

"Oh, come on! It was one game! I could totally crush you in a second," he objects, and they continue bickering as to their difference in intellect before the topic of the conversation eventually veers off somehow to the pointlessness of Battleship.

As Foaly is discussing how utterly random and luck-based Battleship really is, he notices that the boy is still smiling a little as he argues that Battleship is also a play on psychology and facial expressions. Deep inside, he crows in victory at having distracted the boy from the all-consuming Complex.

Even after five months of intensive medical care and suffering through paranoia, Multiple Personality Disorder, and obsessions with a random set of numbers, Artemis Fowl the Second still revels in winning.

And win he does.

* * *

><p><strong>In which Foaly attempts to distract Artemis from the Complex by suggesting a Mud Man game, and eventually succeeds. After all, he doesn't have anything better to do in the Ops Booth. Right?<strong>

**Reviews are always loved.**


	6. Competition

**Disclaimer: Still not an Irish author; not even male. Well, on the exterior at least. At heart I enjoy video games, mud and punching a little too much. But that's for another time.**

* * *

><p>Artemis turned around, willing his eyes not to stray from the door. <em>Don't look don't look don't look<em>, his mind screamed, and yet his eyes betrayed him and he found himself looking out from his peripheral vision.

_Those eyes! _They haunted his very being, those perfectly innocent eyes, blinking up at him with childish wonder. Doubt was now firmly planted in his mind. Did he really have to go?

"I have to go," he said, more to himself than to her. She blinked again, nuzzling up to his calf.

"_Don't_ _go!_" her eyes seem to say, and he felt compelled to listen, but he maintained his composure.

"I have to go see someone, Mittens," he said, frowning.

"_Are you cheating on me with another cat?_" her expression seemed to say, staring forlornly up at her master.

"No, no, not another cat," he said. "Holly does _smell_ a little like a cat though, it's odd really."

"_You are cheating on me with another cat!_" her eyes stared accusingly, hissing a little. "_What is this Holly? A Siamese? Does she have nicer fur?_"

"No, you have perfectly wonderful fur, Mittens," he said, leaning down and scratching her ear to prove his point. She purred in appreciation. "I'm certainly not cheating on you with another cat."

"_Then why won't you stay with me?" _her eyes widened a little, and Artemis scowled. Cats couldn't pout, could they? Why was his cat so bloody _difficult_?

"I haven't seen Holly in a very long while, Mittens," he told her, hands crossed. "I miss talking to her."

"_It's always Holly this and Holly that," _his cat seemed to be hissing. "_Even when that cat's not around, you still talk about her all day long!_"

"That's because she's a very good friend, Mittens," he reprimanded. "Also, she's not a cat. She's an elf. It's very different."

"Artemis? Are you talking to your cat?" a voice behind him suddenly said, and he jumped a little, whirring around.

"Of course not!" he said defensively.

"I don't see anyone else around," Holly pointed out, an amused smirk on her face. Behind him, Mittens yowled in displeasure. _Get away from him, you furless cat-_

"She's not a cat!" he shouted in frustration, stomping his way up to his room and slamming the door. D'arvit, he was going _insane! _His cat couldn't _talk! _Was this some sort of delusional aftereffect from the Complex?

The cat and the elf left in the hallway gazed at each other intently, sizing each other up.

Holly sighed. Fronddamnit, did Butler _really_ have to buy Artemis a cat of all things for his birthday?

_"I am the only cat in Artemis' life!"_ the fluffy white monstrosity seemed to be saying.

"Shut it," she retorted, using her gift of tongues to her advantage.

* * *

><p><strong>I have weird dreams. End of story.<strong>

**Reviews are loved, and criticism appreciated; though unnecessary flaming will be snorted at and extinguished.**


	7. Thorns

**Disclaimer: There can't be that many Eoin Colfers in the world. It's not a common name, is it? I assure you, I'm not one of them.**

* * *

><p>Artemis trudged through the gardens of Fowl Mansion, trying to keep his temper in check, cursing his mother and her sudden urge to throw a Christmas party. Being an Angeline Fowl party, the Christmas party was, of course, noisy.<p>

Too many people, too many drinks. Even the enormous, luxurious Fowl Mansion could barely contain the amount of guests it was harbouring, but most of the guests had been kept indoors and away from the gardens, which was precisely why Artemis chose to escape outside as soon as possible.

He could always return to his room, away from the clutches of false manners and social obligations, but it would feel more like a cell than anything else. Artemis Fowl typically hated the outdoors, but tonight he would allow it to be his refuge.

His mind wandered, unbidden, to the city beneath the ground and its inhabitants. He wondered what his friends were doing as of now.

He hadn't seen them in seven months, since they'd narrowly escaped death in a lost tomb buried deep within Egypt. More than thirty weeks. Artemis groaned; he already missed the pounding adrenaline of nearing danger.

If danger was a magnet, he'd be a helpless little paper clip, irresistibly attracted to its very presence. Perhaps that is why he spends so much time with Holly. Unpredictable, violent, and certainly dangerous in her own right.

His musings are interrupted abruptly when a party guest that had wandered astray from the crowd stumbled into him, half-drunk with champagne and sporting a ridiculous grin.

"'ello there!" she giggled, throwing an arm over his shoulder in what she might've drunkenly interpreted as a comradely gesture. "You're the host's son, aren't you? A silly girl's name or something. Athena?"

Artemis sniffed in disdain, but he knew he was inclined to behave politely, for his mother's sake. Even if she was too stone drunk to remember anything tomorrow morning anyway.

"Artemis, actually," he said. "I was named after my father, it's also a general term meaning a hunter."

"A girl's name is a girl's name, 'rtemis," she giggled again. Artemis wondered if her vocal chords were impaired. "Stop deny-_ing_ it."

"It is occasionally used as a girl's name, yes," he said, his tone even but his expression implying severe condescension.

"Don't matter to me," she says, looping her arm around his. _Does_, he wants to correct, but he restrains himself. "Thought you looked rather attractive actually, but you ended up sulking in a corner the entire night. So _boring_."

Artemis wants to shoot back a retort, but decides that she is not worth his time. Just as he is constructing a well-thought polite lie to get away, she un-loops her arms from his and hurls into a nearby bush.

_How pleasant_, he thinks, his nose wrinkling in disgust. She stares at him in confusion for a bit after hurling, as though trying to remember what exactly he was doing in front of her, before shaking her head and stumbling away.

Artemis is about to walk back to the mansion to have a good night's sleep when he notices the bush that the drunken girl had puked in. Walking closer subconsciously, he fingers the berries in his hands but accidentally pricks himself.

He studies the slowly bleeding wound on his fingertip with odd disinterest.

It is a holly bush. There are a dozen of decorations based on hollies in his home, among others, tonight. He knows, because he counted them while trying to avoid a couple aristocrats intent upon discovering the true amount of wealth the Fowl family possessed.

Hollies were generally quite toxic to humans, causing diarrhoea and other ailments when ingested; but it was also very important and vital to birds and other wildlife. Artemis cannot help but wonder at the irony of the situation.

A human, no doubt, but also a fowl. A painful necessity, perhaps?

It is a bad metaphor, but as his hands close around a fallen holly branch, he ignores his bleeding hand and smiles.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, I'm aware it's a bad metaphor, but I read an article on holly bushes and I just couldn't <em>resist<em>. Anyway, new chapter, yay! **

**Reviews are loved; criticism appreciated; unnecessary flames will be extinguished. **


	8. Memories

**To the many (many many) points my esteemed reviewer Ru-Doragon brought up:**

**a. Yes, some of my chapters are in third person present tense on purpose.**

**b. It's Mittens, not Muffin, and Butler named her just to irk Artemis.**

**c. Updated the summary to suit your liking.**

**d. Sorry, my disjointed, random inspiration doesn't take requests. ;) (and I have an unfortunate penchant for angst fics. I like fluff, it's just that I enjoy other snippets of humour and tragedy more)**

**Disclaimer: The day I own Artemis Fowl is the day pigs fly.**

* * *

><p>"Major Short, please report for duty immediately. Your help is needed," a voice emitted from her fairy communicator. She recognized it as Commander Kelp's. Trouble seemed awfully stressed.<p>

"What's happened?" she said, her head snapping up to attention immediately as she pushed her mug of coffee away, ignoring her longing for some caffeine.

"We have a code red emergency aboveground in Central Ireland. We would appreciate the assistance," he said quickly. She could hear people running past and the beeps of a shuttle.

"Be there in a flash," she said, before cutting off the line and making a bolt for the door, sliding her fairy communicator into her pocket with ease. Her mind pounded with hypothetical scenarios.

_Escaped troll aboveground? Diggums stirring up trouble in Mud Men toilets? And perhaps, _the deepest part of her mind whispered, _another Fowl emergency? Dare I think it?_

It _was_ Central Ireland, the more logical part of Holly conceded to the emotional one, but there were plenty of cases in Central Ireland. After all, Tara was located in Ireland, so most of their Recon operations focused on rogue shuttles coming from there.

_It could be anything_, she told herself. Her heart was pounding heavily, but her training kicked in and she forced herself to focus.

Fowl emergency or not, the team wanted her for her quick thinking and cool head, not her ridiculously racing heart.

She reached the launching pad near the facility, and quickly strapped on her helmet, Foaly's voice coming to attention immediately. He was talking to another officer on the line. Trouble, Holly guessed. Foaly wasn't exactly one for comforting new Recon jocks.

"I think the situation is mostly under control, you'll just have to wait until Holly arrives and your team is good to go. You might have two inexperienced officers today, but Holly makes up for at least three of them," Foaly was saying, and her heart swelled momentarily at the compliment.

"Commander Kelp, I've arrived at the launching pad," she said formally. Trouble insisted that she addressed him by his rank every since he had received his promotion.

"Good, we're at the E9 bay, hurry up," he said authoritatively.

"What's the situation, sir?" she asked, subconsciously holding her breath as she instinctively rushed towards the letters marked E9. She didn't have to look, she knew this facility inside out.

Trouble grunted. "Twenty-three goblins hijacked a few shuttles from Tara and are terrorising some districts near Dublin. We're going to need more than a hundred wipes for this."

Holly felt disappointed, but for all the wrong reasons. The situation aboveground was horrible, but definitely not of Artemis's making. She sighed, spotting the shuttle and boarding reluctantly.

"We know it's bad, Major Short, but we've already sent several teams up and I think we'll be able to control the situation once this shuttle arrives aboveground," Trouble interrupted her thoughts, misinterpreting her sigh as something different.

"Oh, I have no doubt in the LEPrecon's abilities, sir," she said, forcing a confident grin as she strapped on her seat belt. She'd been chosen as pilot- even her worst critics could not deny that she was the best shuttle flyer the LEP had seen.

"I expect nothing but the best, Major," he replied. _He was becoming more and more like Root every day_, she thought skeptically. _Okay, maybe not entirely, but quite annoyingly gung-ho about everything._

"Anything else to add, Foaly?" she asked hopefully, taking off with practised ease and scanning her GPS tracker quickly.

"Nope, just take out those nasty goblins and wipe the Mud Men, Major," Foaly replied. "Give them a good blow to the head for me."

"Will do," she sighed, guiding the shuttle automatically past a flying piece of earth. The adrenaline was already pumping in her veins. She knew the goblins would put up an exciting fight, but she couldn't help the growing pit of disappointment in her gut.

Not for the first time in the eight months since Artemis had been wiped (_again!_), she wished that he'd just _remember__._

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, okay, I'll try my best for less depressing topics next time, alright? <strong>

**Sometimes I wonder if there's a reason I seem to write so much angst... **


	9. Abomination

**Disclaimer: I am not Eoin Colfer. Period.**

* * *

><p>"You are an abomination," she said bluntly.<p>

"Isn't that a little of an exaggeration?" he asked, rumpling his hair in frustration.

"No," she said flatly. "You are an abomination, and that is the end of that story."

"Look, I'm hardly an _abomination_ just because I-"

"_Eat living creatures!_" she said, stabbing her fork into the table repeatedly to make her point. He winced. That was a mahogany table imported from Italy, of the best quality.

"Holly, calm down," he persuaded, his hands held up as though in surrender. "You make your choices and I'll make mine, we hardly have to bicker like little children-"

"D'arvit, you _are_ a child!" she said, befuddled.

"Nineteen," he said irritably. "Besides, my chronological age is twenty-two. I'm a legal adult!"

"Not to fairies," she retorted. "But we're veering off the topic. This was a _living creature _once, and now it's sitting there, on your plate! How could you even _think_ about eating it? Just looking at it makes me want to puke!"

"It's already dead," he said, frowning. "It's not like digesting it would _un-dead-ify_ it."

Behold, Holly Short, the only being in existence to have prompted Artemis Fowl into using words that didn't exist.

"That's not the point!" she said, throwing her hands up in annoyance. "The point is that humans kill these innocent creatures every day without a good reason!"

"Actually, in the prehistorical ages, humans hunted animals to survive," he corrected. "Wouldn't you agree with the primal instinct to _survive_? Animals do much worse without batting an eyelash. At least humans have consciences."

"Well, humans have evolved since then!" she said, standing up and pushing her chair back (specially produced shorter for her one time when Artemis was bored). "The whole human population could easily survive on vegetation instead!"

"Could they really?" he asked skeptically, as he mind whirred to calculate the possibility. "There are over six billion people on the planet, and the consumption rate would be _unbelievably_ high, not to mention the chemicals needed to produce-"

"Shut up, Artemis, you're making my brain hurt," she said, rubbing her temples.

"What are you, the princess in _the Princess and the Pea_?" he asked skeptically. "I hardly think your brain can sustain damages so easily, even without your healing magic."

"_The Princess and the Pea_?"she asked incredulously. "What in Frond's name is that? Some Mud Girl with a vegetable fetish?"

Sighing, Artemis got up as well and tugged on her hand, leading her in the general direction of his study and ignoring her bewildered sputters.

"What's going on-?"

"Just shush," he interrupted. To be fair, Holly interrupted him on a regular basis as well, this was hardly injustice on his part.

Not long after, Holly was curled up in Artemis's armchair, listening intently as Artemis retold the story patiently, the book fetched from the dustiest section in his bookshelf and now residing in his lap.

The momentary peace did not last long; Artemis now had a lasting migraine to deal with.

"Frond almighty, that princess is a wimp. I've had to sleep in caves and ditches, but she can't even stand a _pea_?"

"She's so awfully rude about it too- if I were a princess that lost sleep over a tiny little pea, I wouldn't tell my servants about it, much less the _hostess_."

"D'arvit, and this prince! Even if by some chance of fate that a princess could be tested by her lasting insomnia, this prince is just going to go '_W__hoop, well, I guess she's a real princess. Let me propose!_'? And the princess is actually saying _yes?_ How long have they known each other, one night-?!"

"For Frond's sake, Holly, shut up!"

Hearing all the shouting, Butler walked into the dining room to ask them if they needed something, only to see it completely deserted. _What a waste of a perfectly-cooked steak._

* * *

><p><strong>There, that was fun to type.<strong>

**Reviews adored, criticism appreciated and unnecessary flames extinguished.**


	10. Envy

**Disclaimer: In another life, perhaps I will be hailed as a successful author. In this, I'm afraid not.**

* * *

><p>Lili Frond was tired of being called a bimbo. So maybe she was gorgeous, rich and a little spoiled. She'll concede that she was used to luxury and wasn't afraid of flaunting the assets she knew she had.<p>

But she wasn't an airhead _bimbo_.

She passed her examinations! So maybe she gently brushed against the line of passing and failing, and she bribed the examiners a little and mentioned her lineage to boost her results, but she _legitimately_ passed her LEP examinations.

She knew she wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, and indeed not the quickest on her feet, but she deserved better than the treatment she received. She wasn't some docile creature that heeded all the other officers' commands.

She was sick of being swamped with _other officers' paperwork_ every weekend (so maybe she dumps them all on a secretary afterward, they still shouldn't do that), she was sick of fetching coffee for Kelp and his buddies, she was especially sick of _Captain Holly Short_.

She's known Holly for quite a long while now, considering they'd been in the same school since she could remember. It was easy last time, of course. All the teachers _adored_ Lili and thought she was the best thing that had happened since those goblin twins attracted crowds of reporters to the school.

It all changed when they entered into the same academy, to join the LEP.

Lili had done it out of spite towards her parents, who had flatly told her that her fate was, essentially, to become a trophy wife. Of course, Lili was good at sweet talk- not half a month later, they were telling everyone that would listen how _proud_ they were that Lili was taking a step towards being an independent young elf.

It'd been Holly's ambition since Lili could remember. Every time in class when the teacher inquired as to their ambitions, as per required by the syllabus, Holly's hand would be the first to shoot up.

"I want to be in the LEP, ma'am!" she would shout enthusiastically. "I'll kick all the criminals' butts!"

Lili always lurked silently in the corner during these sessions, willing herself to melt into the shadows and not be in the limelight for once, watching silently as the teacher admonished Holly for her language and subtly imply that she might have trouble entering the LEP (_screw_ their sexist views!).

She had always admired Holly Short for her determination, but what struck her most about the elfin captain at that time was how utterly confident she was of herself. Lili Frond couldn't deny it- she was jealous. Lili was a little lost, and Holly Short was always so _sure_ of what she wanted in life.

Perhaps that was why, that when her parents claimed she had no other purpose in life than to parade around on a rich elf's arm, that she'd stolen Holly's life story and burst out that she wanted to join the LEP academy.

It did not, of course, turn out the way she'd planned.

On the first day of training, Holly had kicked another trainee's butt during their first hand-to-hand combat lesson and earned praise from the teacher. Lili had complained of a broken nail and earned a disapproving glare.

During flight lessons, Vinyáya (Lili is convinced she is biased towards Holly) pushes Holly past her limit but gives her the highest grade possible. When Lili gets her results, she sees a "passable" stamped on top and blows a fuse.

After the practical and theory examinations, even with Lili's boosted results, she is a whole _twenty-seven_ placings behind Holly Short. There were fifty-two freaking fairies that had been accepted into the academy that year!

And so when Captain Holly Short is offered a d'Arvitting _promotion_ to the rank of Major, and _turns down the offer_, a promotion that Lili has been _craving_ for, she snaps.

Hearing this _horrifying_ piece of news, she storms into the coffee room, screams into her hands and breaks the handle of a coffee mug. A fellow officer stumbles in and upon seeing the ever-docile Lili Frond holding a mug-less handle with a deranged expression on her face, backs away slowly.

A few months later, the same officer asks her out.

Perhaps Lili accepted for selfish reasons, agreed to go out with the officer (then already Commander) because she'd heard of his three failed dates with Holly Short, because she wanted to be _better_ than her at something.

Perhaps their relationship started off on a bad foot, with her ill-managed envy and anger boiling in her heart, but it had turned out pretty well, Lili thought.

Trouble Kelp treated her like she was an intelligent, beautiful woman capable of having her own opinion.

And for once, Lili Frond thought that perhaps she can have a piece of happiness, without bribery and lineage benefits.

* * *

><p><strong>Lili! Oh, no doubt she's spoiled and arrogant and whiny, but she doesn't deserve all the hate and discrimination she gets, surely?<strong>

**On another note, thank you to all my generous readers for your follows and kind reviews!**


	11. Decisions

**Fact: I apologize for being awfully inconsistent; I will sometimes post three stories in a week, then take a one-month break. It comes from having a very much hectic life outside of this site, but I _do_ try to deliver my best.**

**Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer is a mysterious, lurking creature, whom I have the unfortunate knack of not being.**

* * *

><p>Tick tock.<p>

The clock above him counted down with frightening haste.

"Make your decision, Fowl, I'm running out of patience," the elf said, with a sadistic grin. "And you're running out of time."

"Why are you doing this anyway?" Artemis shouted, grasping blindly at straws at his head. He needed more time to formulate a plan, and a quiet place to think.

But life is not fair, he got a ticking clock when he wanted time and a loud, pressing situation when he wanted some peace and quiet. He did not have time, this elf is as brilliant as him.

"Rotting in a prison cell gets _boring_, Fowl," the elf replied. "I'm just like you, a genius, except perhaps a tad more brilliant. Anyway, life gets boring.. without a little crime here and there to... _spice things up_."

Artemis tried to think again, urging the gears in his mind to whir, but he came up blank. The elf's plan was ingenious - almost like one of Artemis' own making.

"That's why you're a criminal as well, no, Fowl?" the elf asked. "So very _boring_, civilian life."

_This elf is insane,_ Artemis realised._ And that's why he's so dangerous. Other criminals at least had a priority to survive, or had a goal they wanted to achieve. He's just a lunatic! A genius, but an insane one, the deadliest one in the game._

"So what is it, Fowl?" the elf asked again. "The survival of all you Mud Men above the surface, or your dearest little _Captain_'s precious little life?"

Holly struggled in the capsule, clawing at the smooth, unbreakable glass. Artemis couldn't hear what she was trying to say, but it looked like a string of vulgarities. Her face was contorted with fury.

"The clock is ticking, Fowl!" the elf cackled, clasping his thin hands together with childish glee. As Artemis contemplated the situation to the best of his abilities, he couldn't help but muse that this elf was hardly the fittest of the lot either. He had a small frame, light and nimble, but weaker than stockier elves like Trouble.

"How can you be so sure that you'll only harm humans, and not other fairies?" he asked, trying to stall. Butler and the others have all been apprehended by his traps, Artemis thought. It had probably not been the best idea to move forward with Holly by himself.

"I modified the bio-bomb to suit a global scale, and tweaked around to have it only recognised Mud Men's genetical makeup," the elf shrugged. "And no, before you continue with your pathetic attempts to stall me, I'm not a hundred percent certain it will work according to plan. But that's the _wonderful_ thing about being deemed clinically insane: I don't really care."

Artemis thought vaguely Argon had finally made a right classification in this case. Above his head, "2:03" loomed menacingly, counting down in large block letters.

Two minutes to choose between the human race and Captain Short. Two minutes to pick, or they would both die. The elf no longer needed to remind Artemis of the slowly diminishing time, it was evident upon his pale face, drawn taut with anxiety, that he was all too aware of it.

Artemis was selfish, he'd admit freely, but he was also logical, rational and collected. His brain was screaming at him to pick the humans, to pick the survival of a race against one elf.

His heart was torn. Root would pick Holly. Foaly would. Mulch would. Trouble Kelp would. But would Artemis Fowl?

Perhaps this was why he had been the one to pass through the labyrinth with Holly successfully, instead of Butler, or Root, because he had been the only one capable of making such a decision. He was the only one that could push away what his heart was screaming, the only one able to temporarily delude himself that he didn't have one.

0:41. Tick tock.

He raised his head, ready to make his decision. Holly nodded, her lips pursed but her eyes shining with understanding. What was unsaid between them could be communicated through their actions alone. Her lips quirked upwards, as though she was amused by her own demise. He tried to smile, but found his eyes watering subconsciously.

Artemis pressed his hand against the outer wall of the capsule, and she mirrored his actions inside; a small brown hand pressed against a thin pale one, and a thick sheet of glass in between.

"Save the humans."

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, depressing chapter is depressing. Yes, Artemis is selfish, but he is also far more rational and can sort through his thoughts well enough to know the priorities, unlike his fellow comrades.<br>**

**Do review, I love reading them! & Don't forget to inform me of any typos/grammar mistakes I made in the fic.**


	12. Forgotten

**A big thank you to all the people that have reviewed on this fic! I apologise for the last chapter ending so depressingly. & a big sorry for my confusion with tenses, one day I was perfectly fine, the next I was spouting present-tense stories (which might work perfectly fine with other authors, but apparently not with me).**

**UNNECESSARY DISCLAIMER STATING I DO NOT OWN ARTEMIS FOWL IS UNNECESSARY.**

* * *

><p>If there was one thing Minerva Paradizo had not expected, it was to be forgotten.<p>

For three years, she anticipated the return of Artemis Fowl, imagining all the possible scenarios in her head. Other girls daydreamed about Prince Charming sweeping them off their feet, away from their boring lives. Minerva had a juvenile mastermind that had saved her life before vanishing mysteriously.

Artemis may have steered clear to avoid her, maybe she would have brought up unpleasant memories. Alternatively, Minerva also expected her expectations might fall disappointingly short if he _did_ make an attempt to talk to her; she _had_ set the par pretty high in her adolescent daydreams.

But _forgotten_? No, Minerva had been too self-important to anticipate that.

When Butler had called her up to say that Artemis had returned, haggard but otherwise alright, she had felt a helium-like elation, but as the days passed by, Butler called and conversed as regularly as before (Minerva had a nagging suspicion that he thought she might be _lonely_), but Artemis made no attempt to ring her up. She had wondered if it had been the first possibility - avoidance?

But after taking a flight to Dublin, seeing Artemis' shocked face as she rapped on their door, she realised that she was completely out of her game.

She had been _forgotten. _She was befuddled.

"Uh," she coughed. _Uh? Where is your dignity, Minerva Paradizo?_

"Hello there, Artemis," she said, quickly covering up her blunder with a genuine smile. "It's nice to see that you're back in town."

Artemis arched an eyebrow, and Minerva nearly palmed herself in the face. _Back in town? Really?_

"Yes, it's a pleasure to be back as well," he replied, courteous facade in place. Minerva nearly wished he would mock her with a vampiric smirk; she felt like one of the clients he felt obligated to pretend to be polite to. "What brings you to Dublin, Minerva?"

"A few business calls here and there," she replied nonchalantly. "I thought I would stop by and say hello to Butler and the twins, perhaps congratulate you on your recent return from the unknown."

Artemis raised an eyebrow again, but opened the door wider silently to let her in nonetheless.

"Butler is in the kitchen, the twins are in their room playing with their toys. Do you need help getting around?" he asked politely, yet his eyes kept straying back to his room in a way that reminded Minerva painfully that he probably had better things to do. Illegal businesses, probably.

"You can go if you'd like, I know the way around the mansion pretty well, I've been here quite often," she replied, striking him where she knew it hurt most, the guilt of being absent from his family's life for the past three years.

"Alright, thank you, Minerva," he said, maintaining his composure, but Minerva noticed with a guilt-ridden, triumphant smirk that he had winced a little before walking brusquely back to his room.

Minerva contemplated the shut door Artemis had just entered with a scowl.

It seemed to be taunting her.

_It was just a small crush, like he ever had feelings for you. You know how hormone-addled teenagers are like these days._

Minerva really hated that door.

Silently, she tiptoed towards his room and pressed her ear against the door, guilty expression in place.

"Who was that?" a female voice said, her voice distorted as though Artemis was using a walkie-talkie. Bad reception, perhaps? Unbidden, the feeling of jealousy weighed down on her heart. Artemis had skipped out on spending some time with her to talk to another person? A _female_ person?

"Minerva."

"Minerva? Really?" the voice asked, and Minerva wondered briefly how she knew about her. Had _Artemis_ told her?

"Yes, really," Minerva heard Artemis say, his void seemingly void of expression. "She said she was paying a visit to Butler and the twins."

The female (girl? woman?) snorted, and Minerva hated her even more in that moment; hated herself for feeling so strongly about someone she had never even _met_. "Didn't you have a humongous crush on her before Hybras?" the female inquired.

Dimly, the word "Hybras" set up a question mark in her brain, but the alarm bells in her mind had gone off, screaming the words _crush crush crush_.

"I was fifteen," Artemis said, his voice dismissive. "Not to mention completely romantically inexperienced." Minerva's heart cracked a little.

"You're still kind of fifteen," the voice replied, and Minerva frowned, wondering what that meant. "And you are _definitely_ still romantically inexperienced."

"It doesn't matter," Artemis said, his voice once more evasive and brusque. "It was just a silly crush."

"Whatever you say, Mud Boy," the voice snorted again, and Minerva slinked away from the door, breathing heavily as though she had been forced through another gym session. She leaned back onto the stairwell, sighing.

_Just a crush, just a crush, just a silly little crush._

Dully, she wondered if this was what the girls at school had dubbed "heartbreak".

* * *

><p><strong>Minerva, who seems to be largely unpopular among people, surprisingly (and sadly, since I actually quite like her characterisation). But anyway, EOIN COLFER WHY YOU ABANDON YOUR SUBPLOTS. <strong>**But seriously, she was just cast aside.**

**I like it when an author doesn't feel the need to resolve _all _the plot so there is _some_ ambiguity, but the lack of _any mention of Minerva_ after that one book was a very striking contrast.**


	13. Drugged

**In which the author is drunk on sugar and caffeine.**

**Disclaimer: A scientist might observe that although Eoin Colfer and I are both humans (most probably), we are certainly not alike in any other way.**

* * *

><p>"Bubbles!" Holly screamed in horror, pressing her cheek against the wall of the room in attempt to get as far away as possible.<p>

"They are advancing!" Mulch shouted, clawing desperately at the door.

The unlocked door.

Foaly snorted as the two of them tried to escape from the clutches of evil imaginary bubbles - right next to the exit.

"Why is Holly screaming?" Root asked, appearing at the centaur's elbow.

"Verbil put some weird drug in her coffee," Foaly said with amusement. "Thought it might make a good prank. Of course, Holly _did_ manage to punch him in the nose before the effects kicked in."

"And the criminal?" Root continued, squinting through the glass at the interrogator's room, where Holly had evidently managed to puncture all the evil bubbles, since they were now raving on about a nefarious genius - the coffee table.

"Stopped by again today and decided to nick Holly's coffee," Foaly explained, pressing his face onto the window in scrutiny as Mulch now began to scream about flying ponies as he charged on his "steed" - that is to say, Holly.

"Any lasting side-effects?" Root asked, tilting his head to a side. Holly had thrown Mulch off her back and was now trying to hug the ceiling fan.

"Not that the scientists knows of," Foaly shrugged. "And it's been tested a gazillion times, so it's harmless. If you want, I could always make them drink the antidote I managed to wrench from Verbil," he offered.

"Nah," Root said offhandedly, and the two of them continued staring through the glass for a moment (Mulch and Holly now thought that they were hiking Mount Kilimanjaro, reminding each other constantly to avoid the robot ducklings found near the tip of the mountain).

Silently, the two of them exchanged sideway glances.

They began sniggering.

Then guffawing.

Simultaneously, they took out their cameras.

* * *

><p><strong>And since the author's sugar-and-caffeine-drunk, she decides to do similar for her characters as <strong>**well.**

**Enjoy the LEP Headquarters fun.**


	14. Suspicion

**Disclaimer: Interesting fact; none of my initials are E. and/or C.**

* * *

><p>"Trouble!" Holly said. "Trouble, Trouble, Trouble."<p>

"Holly?" Commander Kelp asked, furrowing his brows. "Are you quite alright?"

"Of course she is!" Mulch said, appearing at Holly's shoulder. Trouble nearly jumped.

"That is, if you are," Mulch added, stroking his beard - as well as the rest of the hair on his head - for a better effect.

"I'm fine," Trouble replied, completely nonplussed.

"Then she is too!" Mulch said enthusiastically, shaking his hand as though sealing a business deal.

"What's going on?" the Commander asked, stepping back subconsciously until he was backed up against the wall of the office.

"What do you mean?" Holly asked, a faux-innocent look upon her face.

"You've been acting weird all morning! You kept leaving to go the toilet during the meeting, and then you and Mulch keep popping out of nowhere and trying to stop me from entering the Ops Booth," Trouble exclaimed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Trouble," Holly said solemnly, the two of them still crowding around Trouble so he could not leave his position up against the wall.

"Are you sure you're feeling _perfectly fine_, Trouble?" Mulch asked, plastering on a concerned expression.

"I'm _fine_!" Trouble shouted, pushing them away. He was glad that most of the officers in the office had left for a lunch break, this was just embarrassing. "Now if you don't tell me what's going on _right now -_"

"Oh, Trouble," Holly sighed. "Trouble, Trouble, Trouble."

"Why do I feel like our conversation is going in circles?" Trouble asked, groaning as he stepped around them.

"You know what's your problem, Trouble?" Holly continued, as though she had not heard his outburst. "You never let any of your officers have any _privacy_."

"For Frond's sake, Holly, I'm the _Commander of the_ _LEP_!" Trouble shouted impatiently, trying to reach around them to the door of the Ops Booth.

"I have _rights_," Holly said loftily, flailing her arms repeatedly between him and the door.

"_Rights_?" Trouble echoed in disbelief, momentarily distracted from his persistent attempt of opening the door.

"Yes," she said, frowning at him as though in severe disappointment. "As a _citizen _of Haven, not just a Recon Captain."

"...Right," he said, before reaching around her - success! - and wrenching the door open.

Inside sat Artemis Fowl, talking calmly to Foaly as they drank coffee and had what appeared to be cake.

"_What is going on here_?" Trouble shouted in utter disbelief. Behind him, Holly and Mulch casted sideway glances at each other.

"Oh, hello there, Commander," Artemis said serenely, as though the disturbance was nothing but of a mere fly. "Want some cake? Caballine made them for Foaly, but there's quite a lot to go around."

Eyes widened in an almost comical manner, Foaly, Mulch and Holly immediately began trying to explain the situation.

"We never get to _see him_, Trubs, and it's not even the busy time of the year-"

"You smuggled a _Mud Man _into our city!" Trouble fumed, ignoring what they had to say. "It's called _Haven_ for a reason! It's supposed to be a haven from humans! And you just- you just _smuggle one in_?"

"Well, he's never seen the city," Holly explained. "And, as aforementioned, we only _do_ get to see him during our cases."

"_He's not even supposed to be on our cases!" _Trouble shouted, throwing his arms into the air with exasperation. "This is utterly ridiculous! I knew I shouldn't have taken the bloody promotion when Root offered it up. I knew there was something _fishy_ about it! I _knew_ it! He just wanted me to _implode_, having to _deal with all of you_-"

"I do believe all that stress might be bad for your health, Commander," Artemis noted, the only one still sitting down as he sipped at his coffee with his head tilted, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Shut up, Fowl, or we'll throw you to the wolves," Holly snapped.

Artemis mimed zipping his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Uh, I'm not entirely sure what happened with this one. Hmm.<strong>

**I love all reviews and/or criticism, but unnecessary flaming is just what it is, unnecessary. Do tell me if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes made.**


	15. Snow

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ceiling fan and my glasses.**

* * *

><p>"Artemis," Holly whispered, pressing her face against the window with awe.<p>

"What?" he asked absent-mindedly, punching in buttons on his laptop.

"It's _snowing_," she whispered, letting out a shuddering breath.

"So?" he said, eyes still fixated on the screen.

"Frond, I remember being a kid back in Haven, always wondering what it was like aboveground during the winter," she said, her fingers pressing tenderly onto the window with an expression of longing.

"Come on," she said, snapping out of her reverie and tugging at Artemis' sleeve.

"What?" he asked, finally turning away from his laptop and facing her with an inquisitive expression. Even then, Holly noticed he was looking distractedly at the monitor in his peripheral vision.

"Stop it," she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"I'm in the middle of a business deal," he argued, furrowing his brows.

"The business deal can wait," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "It's _snowing_!"

"Again, _so_?" he asked incredulously, trying to return to his laptop and finish up his oh-so-important business deal.

Holly's left eye twitched.

A tell-tale sign for sure.

Artemis _really_ should have known better.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, they stood outside the Fowl Mansion, Artemis' left arm bruised and sore.<p>

"Did you really have to do that?" he asked, rubbing his tender arm.

"You were being stubborn," she argued. The ground was coated with soft, crunchy snow and given a nearly magical atmosphere.

A snowflake dissolved on her nose, and her anger was temporarily forgotten as she looked up towards the sky with all the wonder of a child and the appreciation of a well-worn adult, one who had seen both the raw beauty of the world and its ugly horror.

She looked the epitome of innocence, yet exuded an aura of one who knew the terror of the world so well that its beauty was a gift well-bestowed. A contradiction, if Artemis had ever seen one.

Grinning slightly as he thought of an idea, he grabbed a fistful of snow in his good arm (thanking Frond that he was ambidextrous) and took a good aim at Holly's back.

His am was slightly off-target, and it hit Holly's shoulder instead, but it had the intended effect.

She swivelled around, her shocked expression warping into a mischievous grin as she crouched down to ball up some snow. The beauty of the moment was perhaps shattered, but the magical atmosphere the snow had cast upon the mansion grounds was far from gone.

She took a good aim and hit him straight on the forehead, chuckling as he staggered back a little.

Artemis recognised a skilled opponent when he saw one.

He was the more intelligent of the two, sure, but she was a trained officer with excellent aim.

He smirked.

The game was on.

* * *

><p><strong>Snow! From the accounts I've heard, it's not really as pleasant as everyone makes it out to be, but I still like the idea of the soft, fluffy, white magical land I used to dream about as a child. <strong>**Reviews are loved, criticism appreciated and unnecessary flames snorted at and extinguished. Do inform me of spelling or grammatical mistakes, as well as plot holes or flaws in character portrayals. **


	16. Surveillance

**Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer is a shiny unicorn that I am not. No, wait, scratch that, neither Eoin Colfer nor I are shiny unicorns, but I'm still not him (sadly).**

* * *

><p>"Kelp," Mulch nodded in recognition as the stocky elf walked through the door.<p>

"Situation at hand?" Trouble asked formally, taking a free seat and not bothering to greet the dwarf.

"Gee, nice to see you too," Mulch said sarcastically, raising a brow.

"I was in the middle of a mission when you called me about your so-called emergency, Diggums, so what is it?" Trouble asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Just hold on," Mulch said, switching on his computer and punching in some buttons. Not seconds later, Foaly's face appeared on the screen.

"What is it, criminal?" Foaly asked conversationally, sipping at a cup of tea.

"Some kind of emergency, the crook claims," Trouble piped up, squeezing in next to Mulch so Foaly could see his face.

"Ugh, Trubs, you're in that dingy place he calls a home?" Foaly asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Unfortunately," Trouble agreed. "And don't call me that! It's Commander Kelp to you."

"Would you two stop bickering already?" Mulch asked. Trouble looked up, and saw that he had already left the corner of the room and was now sliding discs into the slot on his television.

"So a few days ago I was.. uh, investigating a case," Mulch said distractedly, trying to figure out what was wrong with his television.

"Ergo, you were aboveground, stealing something," Foaly said, raising an eyebrow.

"Shush," Mulch snapped, finally punching in the right button. "So I was near Fowl Mansion, and I saw something very peculiar-"

"What?" Trouble yelped, standing up from his seat and looking at Mulch with horror. "We gave specific instructions to _never go near Fowl Mansion again_ after he was wiped! What were you thinking?"

"Well, your beloved Recon Captain was there too, so don't judge," Mulch snapped. Trouble's jaw dropped even further. Even Foaly seemed to be at loss for words.

The disk loaded, and paused on the screen was the image of two figures, one short but with the proportions of an adult, another tall but with the proportions of a teen.

"I took a video," Mulch said quietly. Trouble turned the screen of the computer monitor so that Foaly could see the television screen properly. A few thousand feet away, a cup of tea was dropped and shattered on the floor of the Ops Booth.

Mulch unpaused the video.

The short figure with an undeniably familiar crew-cut was shouting at the raven-haired youth, but the video was blurry and unfocused.

She shook his shoulders next, and the camera managed to catch a snippet of the conversation.

"Don't you remember me, Artemis?" she asked desperately, a dirt-covered Recon officer clawing at a boy in an Armani suit.

The boy staggered back.

"No - who are you? What do you want? Butler!" he called desperately. Trouble wondered vaguely how exactly Holly had gotten Butler to leave his oh-so-precious principal alone for the moment.

"Come on, Fowl!" she said, still clutching at both his shoulders. "Don't you remember?"

Artemis was evidently trying to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I think you're severely mistaken. I'm not who you're looking for," he said, his voice sliding back into the familiar cold tone.

"You're Artemis Fowl the Second!" Holly shouted, throwing her hands up wildly. "You look three years younger than your chronological age! You have six toes on one foot! You have the highest-testing IQ in all of Europe! You told me once that sometimes you just want to be a normal teenager-!"

"That's enough," he snapped testily. "I don't know how you know all that information about me, especially my private information, but you are disturbing me and the residents of the village with your hysterics."

He walked away, shaking her hands off his shoulders indifferently. From the camera's angle, the three fairies could see his shaken face. All Captain Short could see was a leaving figure and the back of a head with ruffled black hair.

Her hands dropped to her sides.

The elf with copper hair dropped to her knees.

Back in a dingy room in Haven, a dwarf resisted an itch in his hand that told him to punch a certain Mud Man.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry if there are spellinggrammatical/logical errors; I don't have a beta.**

**Reviews and criticism much appreciated, unnecessary flames- well, unnecessary. **


	17. Sibling Rivalry

**Disclaimer: I do not in any way own the book series known to mankind as Artemis Fowl. I do own a dog, however.**

* * *

><p>"Look at him, the little nerd!" the boy with sandy blond hair shouted, pushing him up against a locker.<p>

Myles recognised his face.

Gillian. The boy with the green eyes. The only one to fail Geometry in his class.

Captain of some sport too. Boxing? He definitely had the build.

"Actually, I'm not a 'nerd', I have one of the highest IQs in Ireland. A nerd is a foolish or contemptible person who lacks social-"

"Shut up, _nerd_!"

Myles sighed. Why did he bother, really? In a few years, St. Bartleby's would be nothing but a speck in the distance, years spent foolishly wandering among idiots at the advice of his parents that he would contemplate with a frown.

"Let him go, Campbell!" said a very familiar voice. Myles hid a sigh of irritation. _Must_ that fool come charging into every situation like some blind mule?

Gillian obediently let the scrawny youth go.

"Sorry, Fowl," he said, in a voice that was not particularly apologetic. "Can't help myself sometimes. Your brother's just such an arrogant show-off."

"Well, you know what will happen if you '_can't help yourself' _one more time," Beckett said, with a false smile in place. He cracked his knuckles cheerily.

"Yes, of course, Beckett," Gillian murmured quickly, hurrying away with his eyes down. Beckett turned around to face his brother.

"I could've handled that by myself," Myles said sulkily, crossing his arms.

"Really?" Beckett answered with an incredulous grin. "How? By blackmailing him, like everyone else?"

"It's efficient," Myles sniffed with disdain, ignoring his brother's disapproving look. "Gillian Campbell. Of Scottish descent, I believe. His father's a wealthy businessman. I'm sure _Daddy _would love to know that his precious ickle son is ruining his business opportunities with the illustrious Fowl family."

"Of course," his twin kept a straight face. "No wonder everyone says you have better social skills than me. Blackmail is one of the best ways to improve interaction among classmates."

They shared a look. Myles couldn't keep a quirk of his lips off his face.

"Seriously though, you need to stop intimidating our classmates," Beckett said, as they walked down the hallway to the dorms. "I heard you just kicked out someone from the Chess Club the other day."

"Ugh, I barely pay attention to that silly club, all the members are morons at chess," Myles rolled his eyes. "I only kicked the doofus out because he had the audacity to imply that you were a moron. I mean, you obviously _are_, but to have the nerve to say that!"

"I'm sure we're all morons in _comparison_, oh-so-mighty President of the Chess Club," Beckett mocked, hiding his pleasure at being defended by his twin. Sometimes, it was easy for him to doubt if Myles truly cared about him. His brother hid his emotions almost as well as Artemis did.

"That's not witty at all, Beckett, I'm truly disappointed," Myles said, quirking a brow. "Besides, I _am_ one of the people with the highest IQs, it's hardly a fabrication of my mind. You're all pretty much goldfish, swimming around sluggishly."

"I'm sure our wit, or lack thereof, isn't the only thing you're disappointed about," Beckett smiled knowingly. "Still sulking that you can't beat Artemis' records?"

"He's quite a few years older than me," Myles insisted. His expression was firm, something different from hurt pride was fuelling his determination.

_Sibling rivalry?_ Beckett wondered inwardly. His brother had always been rather competitive.

"I'll catch up one day."

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued in the next chapter, because this conversation is rather long for a drabble.<strong>

**Reviews and criticism loved, unnecessary flaming ignored.**


	18. Sibling Rivalry II

**Disclaimer: Eoin Colfer has called! I still don't own Artemis Fowl, unfortunately.**

* * *

><p><strong>Previously:<strong> _"He's quite a few years older than me. I'll catch up one day." _

There was a look in Myles' eyes, something that caught Beckett's interest. Myles had always been rather irritated with Artemis' accomplishments.

"Of course you will," Beckett said with a smirk. Myles swallowed next to him, and he looked over, stopping suddenly.

"You _do_ know that it doesn't matter, right? Artemis is Artemis, and you're you. Nobody cares who's holding the title of the highest IQ in Ireland, or in Europe. You're different people."

"Truly touching, Beckett," Myles said sarcastically. His expression warped suddenly to an unreadable one, his brows furrowed and his frown contemplative. "But is it true? Everyone's always telling me how '_very alike Artemis_' I am. Sometimes I feel like a cheaper version of him."

"Myles, that isn't true in the _slightest_," Beckett said, gripping his brother's shoulders. "For one, he's much quieter. For another, he seems a lot more... violent. Not _physically_ violent, that's a characteristic both of you lack, but _emotionally. _Sometimes I look at him and he looks like he's... _tense_, volatile, like he's struggling to contain some sort of violence and aggressiveness inside himself."

"He _is _rather strained sometimes," Myles conceded. "But everyone seems to like him more. Especially Mum and Dad," he added, looking away. This was a point that struck close to his heart. _Did_ his parents love Artemis more than him? He was later, always second next to Artemis' genius, Artemis' accomplishments.

"Don't tell anyone I said this," Beckett said suddenly, looking down the hallway as though checking for onlookers. The corridor was empty. "But I think Mum and Dad kind of... neglected him before we were born."

"What?" Myles asked, stricken. "But they adore him!"

"I overheard this conversation between Mum and Dad," his blond twin said hesitantly, leaning against the wall and sighing. "She was saying how... _lonely_ Artemis had been, before Dad had came home. Remember that story Dad told us once, about the Russian mafia that had kidnapped him for a period of time? He had been rather vague, but I think there's a deeper story to it."

"What do you mean?" Myles asked worriedly, reverting to his perpetual expression: furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, a contemplative frown.

"I mean, Mum said something..." Beckett said, facing away from Myles' curious face. "I think she wasn't quite... right before Dad came home."

"...Right?" Myles felt like his lungs were splitting at the seams. This was too much intake of information, even for him.

"Mentally stable," said Beckett. "So I guess they're kind of compensating for the attention he didn't have as a child."

"Huh," Myles said, his expression worn out. "Never thought about it like that." His brother's unexplainable mood swings, his parent's apologetic expression when they talked of Artemis' childhood, Butler's constant overprotective attitude in regard to Artemis - maybe it wasn't just favouritism?

He vaguely remembered a conversation with his older brother, the latter taking on a cold and indifferent expression when Myles had mentioned going on a brief vacation to France with their parents and Beckett, while Artemis had been away on 'business'.

Myles had thought Artemis was behaving ridiculously jealous.

Perhaps his older brother did not share his good fortune? It was odd; Myles had never considered his fortune to be anywhere resembling good before, but the more he thought about it, the more _present_ his parents seemed to have been in his life.

Cancelled plans, specially-made detours, Artemis and Angeline Fowl seemed capable of anything to see their children more often.

He had taken it for granted, stared in confusion when he noted the hardened expression Artemis wore on those occasions.

He felt like he could finally understand his brother, understand the reason why the latter seemed to be constantly 'away on business' right when the rest of the family would be together in the same house, understand why Artemis sometimes looked like he was on the verge of snapping at everyone.

"So?" Beckett asked, breaking his twin's train of thought.

"What?" Myles asked in confusion.

"Mum and Dad love you just as much as they do Artemis, etc?" Beckett asked, looking concerned at his brother's sudden lapse of thought. "If it makes you feel better, I like you loads more than Artemis. I mean, I do like Artemis, but _you're_ my twin brother, not him."

Myles smiled sincerely.

"You're such a dolt, Beckett," he said, trying to sock his brother in the arm but nearly breaking his hand in the process. Beckett tried to repress his laughter as Myles failed in attempt to hide his evident pain.

"Come on, let's head back to the dorms."

* * *

><p><strong>I don't like that Colfer seemed to be making Myles into some sort of mini-Artemis, so I tried to draw the line between the two, make a comparison. They're both highly intelligent individuals, but Artemis has gone through a lot more than his younger brother, thus making him the more experienced of the two.<strong>

**Aside from that, Myles also had the good influence of his father's (previously corrupt) moral principles and his mother's virtuous personality, whereas Artemis has been forced to grow up in the harsh cruel world, away from the shelter of his parent's love. He might have been a changed young man after his interactions with the People, but there are some characteristics of your youth that you carry forever.**

**Myles is untainted by the cruelty of reality, but perhaps that is why he will never understand some of the things Artemis does.**


	19. Burn

**Disclaimer: They found the official documents! The owner of the copyright of Artemis Fowl is... still Eoin Colfer! And not me.**

* * *

><p>Artemis fingered the golden coin that hung loosely around his neck.<p>

It glinted under the light of the bland white hospital lamp, the tiny hole looking as though it had been freshly carved.

His thumb swept over the uneven surface of the coin, memorising each groove and pattern.

_"You keep it, to remind you."_

_"To remind me?"_

_"To remind you that deep beneath the layers of deviousness, you have a spark of decency. Perhaps you could blow on that spark occasionally."_

_The coin burned in his grasp, but his fingers didn't loosen in the slightest. The blistering hot golden disk in his palm felt comforting._

_"Yes, perhaps."_

His vision blurred, he felt as though he was drowning in a sea of memories, swimming with fishes of an unknown species. _A spark of decency_, she had said. But who on earth was she?

_"Artemis Fowl is never secondary."_

_"I thought you were Artemis Fowl the Second?"_

He swallowed, trying to diminish his growing headache.

If only the memories didn't have to arrive along with a stab to his head every time.

He fiddled with the button in his hand, turning the dial up to increase the flow of painkillers into his bloodstream.

He hated being dependant on a drug, but it was necessary. He felt an agonising pain every time he recalled a memory.

_"A CD. How quaint. We have these at museums."_

He grasped desperately at his memories, but rather than blinding pain, this time he was left in a drug-induced daze.

"Are you alright, Mr Fowl?" the nurse said worriedly, rushing to his side at the sight of him blinking dizzily.

"Quite," he answered tersely. "Tell me, in what predicament was I found in?"

"My answer's not going to change no matter how many times you ask, Mr Fowl," said the cheery nurse, looking down at him with amusement. "You were found down a dark alley, with heavy bleeding and a severe concussion. Your clothes were frayed and your skin was scalded badly, but we were unable to identify the weapon that had caused your injuries. It definitely wasn't a gun, nor was it blunt force trauma either."

"I see," was his only reply.

"Do you need me to repeat it for a sixth time, or are you fine?" the nurse asked, with a cheeky expression.

"I'm fine," he answered vaguely, looking deeply contemplative.

"So..." the nurse said hesitantly. Artemis looked up, and observed for the first time her innocent, youthful features and auburn hair. "Do you want to grab dinner sometime? We could go to this diner I know after you're discharged."

Artemis stared.

"Or we could always get something to eat at the cafeteria," she said, hopeful expression in place. Artemis felt deeply disconcerted. He couldn't put his finger on the reason for his feeling of nausea, but the idea of a _date_ felt extremely implausible to him.

"Thank you for the offer..." he said, staring at her heart-shaped face. The image of a copper-haired elf danced before his eyes, and his eyes swam with tears of pain at the headache it caused. He could feel the cold, golden disk cutting into his palm.

_"_Friendship isn't a science, Mud Boy. Just do what you think is right."__

"But I'll pass."

* * *

><p><strong>For some reason I really enjoy the idea of Artemis losing his memories.<strong>

**...For some inane reason.**

**Seriously, I counted, and that's 3 out of 19 drabbles involving Artemis' memory loss. Maybe I should turn the tables on Holly.**


	20. Shock

**Disclaimer: Construct a sentence out of the following words: not, I, Artemis, own, Fowl, do.**

* * *

><p>Holly was severely injured.<p>

It was evident, from the strained expression she wore and the large blood loss her body could not possibly compensate for.

If she had her healing magic with her, this wound would not have been a big deal, but with the poison in her bloodstream, her magic was repressed. The blue sparks at her fingertips flickered and died.

She stared at the knife, struck crudely in her abdomen. If she removed it now, the blood loss would only be all the greater.

She might be going into shock, now that she thought about it.

They had learned about this in LEP Academy, the 10 _things-to-do _to avoid going into hypovolemic shock. They were small people, it was easy to lose too much blood that their body could not possibly replenish.

_Step 1: Get the nearest fairy to employ his or her healing magic on you. In the case of non-magical fairies, direct pressure on the wound and attempt to stop bleeding._

Artemis' face swam before her vision, and broke her train of thought.

Sadly, Artemis didn't have healing magic, and he was the only person on hand at the moment. How useless.

"Holly! Holly, stay with me, I think you might be going into shock-" It was odd, his face looked rather concerned. Artemis Fowl II, concerned over someone's health? Very, very odd.

"I know what shock is, Mud Boy," Holly snapped, but even as she spoke the words, her head tilted dizzily and she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of another onslaught of panic.

"Focus, Captain!" Artemis shouted, and he tore off a piece of his shirt, pressing it against her wound. A few feet away, Holly observed the dead body of the blonde pixie, her face frozen in a manic grin forever.

"You know," she slurred. "If you were a fairy, I probably wouldn't be dying right now."

"Shut up," he demanded, sounding near hysterical as he slipped his hands under her body, carrying her up easily. "I'm going to get you to the nearest hospital."

"Not even your intellectual prowess can magically teleport us to Haven, Fowl," she snorted. "Face it. We're above surface, cut off from communication with the LEP, and we're on a deserted island. I'm going to die."

"Fronddamnit, why does one of us always have to be in mortal danger every single time?" Artemis murmured, fiddling with his broken communicator. Le Fou had disabled it easily, but now that she was dead, perhaps there was a shred of technology somewhere inside that he could still use.

"That's our lives in a nutshell, Mud Boy," Holly chuckled, ignoring the numbing pain in her abdomen. Even with the piece of cloth pressed against her wound, her blood still poured freely. She could feel the last thread of consciousness slipping away.

"Some insane Mud Man or fairy decides that he or she will be the next one to step up and try to _conquer the world_, or Frond knows what else," she carried on, craning her head to see what Artemis was doing to his communicator. "And no matter how many squadrons or troops we start out with, it always ends up with the two of us."

"We should retire," he said vaguely, fingers sweeping expertly over the buttons of the disabled communicator. "We would have a great pension anyway, they definitely owe us that."

"You're not even paid," she said, quirking a smile. "Trouble would have a fit if I tried to resign..."

Her vision blurred, and she felt herself go limp in his arms. Artemis wrapped his hands around her body comfortingly.

Her hearing was the last to go before she fell unconscious. There was a triumphant shout, a long beep, and Artemis' voice, soothing somehow to her ears.

"Foaly, we need a medic on the scene, _now._"

"Roger that, Fowl."

* * *

><p><strong>A (sort of) happy ending to one of my depressing chapters, for once! Who would've thought, eh? Let me know of any spellinggrammatical/logical errors, and I'll fix it as soon as possible.**

**Alright, this is the last day of my semi-break from real life, so expect a longer period of time to my next update. I'm not the most regular updater, but hey, at least I gave you guys four chapters in quick succession first before I went back to work. /wink wink/**


	21. Elegance

**Disclaimer: The ambulance says, "I am not Eoin Colfer, and therefore I do not own Artemis Fowl."**

* * *

><p>"Artemis, do come inside, there is a business deal I want to introduce you to," his father said in a clipped tone. Artemis recognised it as a demand, not a request. His father would not tolerate insolence, after all.<p>

"Of course, Father," he answered, brushing away his wonder at the view his eyes were feasting upon. "The outdoors is despicable anyway."

"Artemis, we're in Venice, let your son stay outside for a while," his mother reprimanded, walking out onto the balcony and leaning over the railing. She stretched her arms outward, smiling as she appeared to inhale the sunlight.

"We came strictly for business," his father said, scowling in disapproval. "And _do_ stop leaning over the railing like that, it sets my teeth on edge. What would happen if you should fall?"

"Oh, do lighten up," she said, disregarding his advice. "I know you _can_."

Her white dress billowed in the wind and her hair flew wildly as she laughed. Reflecting upon this moment years later, Artemis would remember thinking she was heavenly beautiful in that split second, her eyes crinkling at the corners as the Venice sun shone down on the balcony.

Of course, it was through the biased eyes of an seven-year-old child. Nobody could possess the beauty of a deity, even if his mother seemed to come close.

"I can lighten up after I finish up on the business deal," his father reminded her, furrowing his brows over the puzzling contents in his laptop. "Interesting, it appears that the Russians are willing to pay quite a large sum for some few hundred pounds of cola."

"Artemis," she said, her smile disappearing as she walked into the hotel room and out of the sunlight of the balcony. Artemis frowned; he had been observing the light dance in the tangles of her hair. "Speaking of your _business_..."

"Sweetheart, let's not come to thisagain," his father said. If Artemis wasn't in such reverence over his father's poise and control, and so determined to follow in his footsteps, he might've hazarded a guess that his father was _pouting_. "Didn't you say that you want to enjoy this vacation? Why sully it with such disagreeable talk?"_  
><em>

"Just a minute ago you had no qualms about sullying our so-called 'vacation' by deeming it a business trip," she retorted, quirking an elegant brow. His father continued frowning, or - dare he say it? - sulking. "You know that expression doesn't work on me, darling," she said, in a sing-song manner.

"Jokes aside," his mother continued, putting away her amused expression and gaining a serious one. "Three weeks ago, you made me a very important promise... One that I will keep you to for the rest of your life."

"Yes, yes, of course," his father said irritably, waving a hand airily at her. "One last adventure and I'll drop all my illegal schemes and we'll settle down with the money I've earned from my.. ah.. projects. Satisfied, dear?"

"Very," she said, smiling. Artemis looked from one parent to the other, utterly bewildered. Drop their projects? What a ridiculous idea! They might as well drop their family motto, their crest; hand in their identification cards at the genius convention. _Aurum Est Potestas_, after all.

He caught a small smirk playing on his father's lips, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief, barely audible to his parents. His father had a trick up his sleeve. The Russian mafia expedition didn't sound rather legal, after all. All that was wrong in the last two minutes had been set back to normal. Well, as normal as their family could get.

Then again...

A stately figure, clad in white, returned to the balcony and continued her observation of the Venice waters. The sunlight shone upon the features of her face and she smiled crookedly, a full-blown grin unlike the upward quirk of the lips Artemis and his father usually took to.

_That smile could cure cancers_, thought Artemis.

Maybe his mother hadn't been knocked quite out of the game yet.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the late chapter, but I have already said previously that the speed in which I upload my chapters will vary largely, sometimes spanning two days and sometimes three weeks. My sincerest apologies, but this habit most likely will not cease.<strong>

**Let me know of spelling/grammar/logical errors.**


	22. Weary

**Disclaimer: I can't even think of anymore ways to say I don't own Artemis Fowl. I just.. don't. You know?**

**Update: Eh, changed it around a bit at the advise of a reviewer.**

* * *

><p>"Honey, I'm home," Doctor Po said, throwing his briefcase on the couch and rubbing his eyes tiredly.<p>

"How was work?" came the response from the kitchen. "I'm just finishing up on dinner, I'll be there in a sec."

"Absolutely exhausting," he said, practically collapsing on the chair by the dining table. "What's for dinner today?"

"Chicken chops and some onion soup, nothing fancy," his wife said, bringing some plates to the table and giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. "Hard day at work, I suppose?"

"You have no idea," he said, pulling a few plates over so as to eat comfortably. "This soup is delicious, you're a culinary genius, dear."

"Bartleby's administrators giving you a hard time?" she asked sympathetically, sitting down and taking a bowl for herself.

"No, actually, they're being awfully generous about any facilities that I might want to use," he chuckled, sipping at his soup. "I suppose it's because they're afraid I'm going to quit like all the other psychologists have."

"What?" his wife said, looking up in surprise. "Why did they quit?"

"Well..." Doctor Po said, hesitating a little. "There's this boy..."

"Nothing you haven't handled before, I'm sure," his wife said, tilting her head sideways in confusion.

"You don't get it," he said, grimacing. "He's a rather... _special_ case. Lord knows how many times I have considered quitting since his case was put under my wing."

"Surely you're exaggerating?" his wife said, smiling at him like she knew he was just being modest. The doctor nearly groaned in frustration, but of course, everybody underestimated the pure infuriating qualities of that child until they met him in person.

"No, no, honey, I'm not," he said, propping his elbow up and brooding quietly. "I can't quite crack his shell like I can with the others. Never seen a case like his before. It's hard being a psychologist when you're patient is intent upon playing the part of one as well."

"Well, teenagers always think they're the geniuses and all adults that try to give them a hand are simply dolts," his wife said encouragingly. "You know how Jenny was when _she _was sixteen. It was always, '_Mom, I can take care of myself. God, you are _so_ annoying'._"

"Katherine, you can't be more mistaken about this boy," Doctor Po said gravely, shaking his head. "He's an _actual genius_. Highest IQ in Europe, in fact."

"Really?" his wife said, jolting in surprise. "Well, I thought you would've been proud, then, that Bartleby's is trusting you with this unique case. Anyhow, why hasn't anyone heard of him, if he's so very intelligent?"

"He likes to keep a low profile. His family isn't exactly in very _legal_ business..." the doctor said, staring down at his food. "But dear Lord, he still has the most inflated ego I have ever encountered. I don't think he holds _any_ respect for other people at all; just because he can easily outsmart them all."

"Maybe he's just bored," his wife suggested, shrugging. Doctor Po looked up at that. His wife could sometimes really surprise him with her insight on these things. He was the psychologist, but perhaps her maternal instinct just gave her the ability to understand teenagers and children. It was more than he expected from a linguistics lecturer like her.

"Yes, I think you're right, dear," the doctor said, smiling as he took a bite from his chicken. What Artemis Fowl needed was a good adventure; something to challenge his abundant intelligence and overgrown ego. Doctor Po was feeling rather hopeful that evening, what with the lovely soup and great advise.

Maybe he wouldn't quit just yet.

* * *

><p><strong>This takes place some time before that short bit we saw in the (second?) book, by the way.<strong>

**Let me know of spelling/grammar/logical errors.**


	23. Charm

**Disclaimer: You know, maybe one day I will write and publish a book of my own, but it definitely will never be Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

><p>"Hey, Artemis, I hacked your system. For the <em>sixth time! <em>Am I awesome or what?"

"What," Artemis said in a monotone, rifling through his laptop for bugs. "I think you might be delusional, Foaly."

"You wish, Mud Boy," Major Kelp said, jostling Artemis' shoulder. "The centaur must've done something right for once."

"Hey!" Foaly protested, munching into a carrot with a sulk. "I happen to be a world-renown genius."

"Don't know what you're smoking, Foaly," Commander Root said, leaning over to stare at Foaly's monitor. "But I would sure love a sniff."

"Hey, hey, what's that?" Holly said, pointing at the corner of the monitor where a red dot was blinking.

"A... bug," Foaly said, brooding contemplatively. "Oh, screw you, Fowl."

"Don't bite off more than you can chew, centaur," Artemis said smugly, leaning back in his chair.

"Did someone mention food?" Mulch said, waking up from the corner of the room where he had nodded off. "Because I sure am hungry."

"Oh no, do call the Rapid Response Team, Diggums is _hungry_!" Holly said, leaning against the wall with a smirk.

"What's their number?" Butler said, mock-seriously.

"Why is everyone bullying me?" Mulch said, pouting.

"Don't do that, convict, you're scarring my eyes," Commander Root said, scowling as he covered his eyes as though being blinded with a bright light.

"You just can't stand my suave charm and magnificent looks," Mulch said smugly, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"You have about as much charm as a swear toad, Diggums," snorted Trouble, flicking out the dirt caked in his nails. Artemis wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Actually," Holly said, smirking. "I've always found swear toads rather charming creatures."

"Like the time one bit you on the rear?" Root said disbelievingly.

"Alright, maybe not," she said hastily, shuffling her feet with a sheepish grin.

"Couldn't you have just stunned it in the rear?" Mulch asked. "You don't seem to have a problem doing it to convicts."

"Where exactly is the rear of a swear toad?" Foaly asked, looking up from his monitor.

"I assume it is between its legs and its back," Artemis said with an amused smirk.

"It has a back?" Foaly asked, leaning back in his chair thoughtfully. "It's kind of a short back, if it does exist."

"Well, it _is _a toad," Artemis countered, tapping his chin.

"Boys, boys," Holly said, shaking her head. "Nobody's interested."

"I am," Butler offered from his spot in the corner.

"Who wants cookies?" Juliet asked, swinging open the door suddenly and slamming it right into Mulch's face.

"Ow!" he shrieked, clutching at his nose and dropping to the floor in pain. It was bleeding profusely. "Watch how you open that thing, woman!"

"Oops," she said, without a trace of apology in her voice. "My mistake. It looks kind of crooked now, maybe I can put it back to its original shape with a well-aimed punch..."

"Do refrain yourself from further injuring the criminal, Juliet," Root said drily. "I know we would all love to give the dirt-ridden idiot a kick in the rear, but there are certain laws to abide by, unfortunately."

"We're not in Haven right now," Juliet retorted, picking Mulch up from the ground easily with one hand and placing him delicately on his feet. "Sorry, old fellow. Oh well, what's happened has happened. Maybe I can comfort you with some cookies."

"Ooh, food," Mulch said, immediately forgetting about the pain in favour of this new attraction and leaning over to grab one. "Yum."

"Can I possibly have a Butler at my house, Fowl?" Trouble asked, munching into his own cookie happily. "Preferably as my personal chef?"

"Sorry, Major," Juliet said, handing out the tray to everyone. "But I don't do chef business. Maybe if you ever need a professional wrestler down there in Haven..."

"Thanks, Juliet," snorted Holly. "But I don't think the LEP is exactly ready to deal with the collateral civilian damage in that case."

"Oh, come on!" Juliet said, pouting.

"And," Butler added. "I wouldn't let you go there, even if the opportunity was presented. I would miss my annoying baby sister perhaps a little too much."

"You left me in Mexico without a word of notice!" Juliet protested. "And I can't even go underground? I'll still technically be in Ireland!"

"Didn't you go to Mexico on your own accord?" Foaly asked skeptically.

"Not the point," Juliet said hastily.

"The _point_ is, Mud Girl," Holly said, with an amused smirk. "That it would _never _happen."

"Why is everyone bullying me?" Juliet said, sulking.

"I feel an odd sense of deja vu," Mulch said. "I'm pretty sure you just stole my line there, Mud Girl." This was immediately met with a string of protests.

From his chair, still typing into his laptop and placing bugs on Foaly's computer, Artemis smiled.

Oh, how he missed the old gang.

* * *

><p><strong>I love those small bits in the book where it's just Holly and Artemis and Foaly and Butler and Root and everyone bantering all the time and being a general nuisance to the mission. It was just so adorable it made me want to coo.<strong>

**Let me know of spelling/grammar/logical errors.**


	24. Photograph

**Disclaimer: I have many rights, but sadly none of them are the rights to Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

><p>"And this one was taken when he was three," a low male voice said, coming from the sitting room.<p>

Artemis stopped short and approached the room cautiously. Had someone infiltrated the house?

A female giggled inside, and Artemis paused.

It sounded remarkably like Holly.

"And this one was when he was about eight months old," the voice continued. "Look, he had already grown tufts of that black hair he always insists upon gelling back."

Artemis realised with horror who the voice belonged to.

"It is rather disgusting with gel, yes," Holly agreed, just as Artemis walked through the open door and gaped like a fish.

"Butler! What in Frond's name are you doing?" he said, looking at the two seated comfortably on the worn, red couch his mother had insisted upon keeping. Between their comfortably splayed limbs, several albums were spread out and open.

"Showing Holly your baby photos," Butler said calmly. "And that one is him at the age of two. Already quite scrawny at that age, bit ridiculous, really..."

"I have a vacation!" Holly said brightly, waving. "Trouble told me to take a few days off for a week's worth of sleepless nights working on the Rasiol case. Butler was just showing me some _adorable_ photos of you."

"Rasiol case?" Artemis asked, momentarily forgetting about the crisis at hand. "I hadn't heard about it."

In the background, Butler was muttering, "Completely irresponsible... malnourished..."

"Not every case I take involves you, Mud Boy," Holly laughed. "Besides, the Rasiol case wasn't even interesting. More paperwork than action, really."

"I'm trying to picture you with a desk job, Holly," Butler said, looking up from the photos and squinting as he made a frame with his fingers. "There's an elf with copper brown hair, bent over her desk, loaded with caffeine and trying not to go insane..."

"Same goes for you, no?" Holly retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"Can the both of you focus for a second?" Artemis asked, tapping his foot impatiently. "Butler, _what are you doing_?"

"I told you already, Artemis," Butler said, rolling his eyes. "Seems to have developed memory loss," he stage-whispered to Holly.

"Give me back that photo album," Artemis demanded, holding out a hand expectantly. Holly and Butler looked at each other and smirked in a way eerily reminiscent of himself. Artemis frowned.

Three hours later, Artemis collapsed onto a chair and panted heavily. He really should've started working out. Or maybe downsized the mansion.

* * *

><p>"Beckett, <em>what on earth<em> are you doing in there?" Myles asked, swinging the door open irritably.

Inside, Beckett had his arm wrapped around a girl's shoulder casually as they sat on the couch, a big photo album on their laps.

"Hello there, Myles," the girl said cheerily, waving her hand enthusiastically and accidentally smacking Beckett in the face. She was wearing a dark blue hoodie, which Myles thought was rather attractive, for some reason - returning to the situation at hand...

"Oops," she said, grinning crookedly. "My bad. Beckett was just showing me your baby photos!"

"Beckett," Myles growled, raising a fist. "Step away from Sally. Now. And take that blasted book with you!"

"What are you going to do with that fist, Myles?" Sally asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement. "Send it broken into the emergency room?"

_Oh_, the old, worn velvet red couch thought. _How history repeats itself_.

* * *

><p><strong>And the hero of this story is.. the couch?<strong>

**Let me know of spelling/grammar/logical errors; a beta I have not.**

**& this will be my last chapter in a while, I'm quite busy this month. My next update will be around... early June. Sorry! D:**


	25. Halves

**I'm going to stop making disclaimers past this point. I think you have a pretty good idea after 24 chapters worth of them.**

* * *

><p>Myles remembered a time when he hated being part of a duo, a time when he would scowl in distaste whenever someone said, "Myles and Beckett Fowl" even when he was the only one present.<p>

He never wanted to be a twin.

He never wanted to be thought of as an unfinished half.

When he had brought this up with his parents, they had amiably agreed to stop talking about Beckett as soon as his name was mentioned, but he could practically see them _thinking _it.

It didn't help that Beckett held such stark contrast to him as well.

_Oh, Myles scored highest in the country this year- Beckett won seven gold medals at the below eighteen nationals._

_Ah, Myles, you've grown so lanky these past few years, and look at that shock of black hair! Beckett here has a nice tone to his hair, a pleasant sandy blond. He's quite stocky too. Not very muscular, but well-built enough._

_Beckett's captain of the lacrosse team this year, I see. Myles, you've gained presidency of the chess club? Ah, Artemis always refused to participate in any club activities, he was quite the unsociable child-_

And back then even Artemis' looming reputation was in play.

Myles didn't want to think about Artemis right then. It hurt his head. His older brother was still locked up in his room somewhere, burrowing a deeper and deeper hole to bury himself in with guilt.

_Survivor's guilt_, the therapist his mother had called in said, before Artemis had irritably sent the balding man away, claiming he could psychoanalyse himself perfectly fine, thank you very much.

Myles had 'coincidentally wandered away from the manor' when he had heard the therapist was visiting. Artemis didn't have the luck of eavesdropping on all of their mother's telephone conversations.

He could psychoanalyse himself too.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Black bags, bloodshot eyes, dishevelled hair, bad posture, emotionless expression- he wasn't sleeping, and he wasn't taking care of his health or his hygiene or his appearance and who even cared about all those things when _Beckett wasn't there to tell him off_.

He could almost hear his twin's words.

_Working on another late-night project last night, eh, bro? _

Probably would've been accompanied by one of those shoves in the shoulder as well.

Myles rubbed his shoulder with a sad smile. It still ached from the last time his brother had pushed him.

_No. Don't call me bro. It's uncivilised slang._

_Aww, why not? Aren't we bros?_

An arm slung around his shoulder, probably.

Beckett had a thing for shoulders.

Myles groaned and looked up at the ceiling, counting the white tiles. Beckett had sat here on his bed three weeks ago. Intruded upon Myles' intense studying as usual and just draped himself on the bed.

Rude.

_Look. There's a cracked tile. Five pounds Mum sees it before Friday._

_You're on._

Myles thought he could see a crack forming on the tile in the corner, hidden from view.

He took five pounds from his wallet and tucked it under a stack of books on his desk, just in case.

He had been wrong.

It had never felt more perverse than that one moment after the funeral when he had been loitering in the hallways during class and a teacher had called, "Myles an-" and stopped suddenly, as though jolted into reality.

He had stared.

"Get to class," she had finished lamely.

"Yes," he had said, looking away and swallowing, hard. "I shall."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, maybe earlier than early June. Here's a nice dosage of angst like always, because this is what I write when I get back from a break. Angst.<strong>


	26. Destruction

His city was burning. The last of his legacy. They would have to revert to the plan his subordinates had suggested, the one he had spat at with distaste.

_Are we not land-dwellers? Are we not replenished by the sheer energy of the soil beneath our feet, the power of the moonlight upon our figures? You dare suggest what you just did? This is despicable, this is outrageous- I shall hear no more of this nonsense!_

He had sat with dignity at this throne, believed the city impenetrable, and yet here they were.

_Mud Men_.

They had ravaged, they had destroyed, and evidently he had been an old fool to believe that these _monsters_ could've been his allies. _These_ were the beings he had been prepared to sign peace treaties with, prepared to share the Earth with?

They hid beneath their plastic smiles and their polite words, seemingly respectful of a more advance race, yet always plotting, always planning, to overthrow them. How idiotic could he have been to believe that there was even a shred of decency in them?

The fire spread past the gates, past the almighty impenetrable city walls.

He had bragged about the strength of their forts once, looked upon their land with fierce pride. Now it was nothing but a flaming trap waiting to kill them with hellfire.

_It must be hellfire_, he thought, injuring a portion of the Mud Men soldiers with barely a flick of his fingers, _for it rises from the fingers of demons_.

_No, _he thought, looking at the valiant warlocks at his side, warding off enemies. _Worse than these noble beings. So very, very much worse._

The soldiers fell without a struggle, crumpling to their feet in a crippling but not death-dealing blow. As soon as they fell, another group of soldiers took their place, marching as one without hesitation.

_There are too many of them_, he panicked. His men were skilled, and what they lacked for in numbers they made up for in agility and precision, but even the best of their warriors and mages could barely scratch the endless troops of Mud Men.

"Sir, we must leave! There are too many of them to defeat!" someone practically shrieked into his ear.

_"_Sir, we cannot retreat without your command!" a general shouted at his side.

"_No!_" he shouted. "Where is your honour, your dignity? We fight to our deaths!"

"My king!" his most trusted advisor said, the demon warlock Qwan. "There is no pride, no dignity in dying. Our men might be scarce, but if we persist they shall all be vaporised! Do not let the fallen die in vain- we demons shall stay behind, but the rest of the fairies _must _retreat!"

"Are you sure?" he asked, pursing his lip.

"With all due respect," Qwan said, stopping a flaming arrow with a swish of his hand. "That is my measured opinion, sir."

"Alright then," he said quietly.

"What, sir?" a general asked, leaning nearer.

"I said," he said, louder and clearer. "We shall retreat. Do as Master Qwan says."

He turned to Qwan and clasped his hand. "My friend, I wish you the best of luck. It- it has been my utmost pleasure having been of your acquaintance. It is difficult, having to part with such a dear friend."

The fairies' ranks slowly moved back, heading further and further down the pre-dug tunnel. Qwan's silhouette was dark and comforting against the backdrop of the burning flames. The warlock turned around and gave him a quick embrace.

"Let's not be too serious, my king. Our parting might not be permanent yet. Now hurry, the humans are advancing."

Standing at the mouth of the tunnel, King Frond watched sorrowfully as his friend hurried off into the night, a curse already ready at his fingertips. With a sigh, he waved his hand and whispered an ancient incantation.

The last memory imprinted into his brain before the tunnel sealed permanently were the twinkling stars, flashing in the sky yet barely visible beyond the dead carcass that once had been the glorious Taillte.

His last glimpse of the night sky.

* * *

><p><strong>Bet you guys had absolutely no clue who that was! Probably. Possibly. Hopefully. <strong>**Am I that bad at surprises? Is it written on my face (figuratively, of course)?**

**Do let me know of spelling/grammatical/logical errors, I don't really have a beta.**


	27. Worth

"Tell me the real reason you went on this mission, Frond."

He couldn't help himself, really. He was curious. There wasn't much gossip to go around the LEP's rumour mill, but when there was, it went around as fast as the Haven express shuttle.

"What do you mean?" Lili asked, raising a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. "Root delegated this task to me."

"I heard Root was going to assign this to Holly."

Lili paused.

"Captain Short," she said tersely. "Would not have wanted this mission anyway. It's not as.. _exotic_ as her previous cases. I simply saved her from the boredom it would cause. Anyway, why would _you_ care, Major?"

"Holly's a friend of mine. Besides, you might be right, but it's still very _odd, _that you would... you know."

"No, I don't know," snapped Lili.

"That you would... _actively_ pursue a mission unrelated to you."

"Why?" she hissed. "Because Lili Frond stays in the office and does her paperwork, filing her nails and never really doing any _work_? Because Lili Frond is an airhead that concerns herself with manicures, but not actual problems?"

An uncomfortable silence. He can feel the sweat on his palms.

"Yes," he said bluntly.

Lili stared at him, sharp but unseeing blue eyes piercing into his skin.

"I'm not going to bother with people that don't actually believe I'm worth anything aside from catcalls and cruel rumours," was all she said, before turning on her heel. His curiosity spiked.

Somehow, he found his hand clutching at her wrist.

"Well, help me understand," he said. "Help me believe. Tell me _why__."_

"Because -" she hesitated. "Because Holly always _has everything_, alright?"

He stared at her. Here was an elf with royal heritage and supermodel looks and a thin stack of work on her desk, complaining about the lack of fairness in the world. What was Haven coming to?

"You don't get it," she said finally, sighing. "Nobody _gets it__! _Everyone likes Holly, alright? She has guts, she has ambition, she has determination, she's _worth something_. One day she's going to be the Wing Commander of the LEP or Frond knows what else, and I'll be standing on the arm of some balding millionaire, doing nothing with my life."

"I'm just," she said, wincing as though physically hurt. "I guess I'm jealous, okay, Major? Are you happy? I know it's petty to be envious of her - I mean, look at her hair (he could not help but chuckle a little at that) - but... but..."

"Yes?" he prompted, looking at her with an unreadable expression.

"Everyone - everyone _knows _that she's the better cop. That she's the better _person_," Lili said hollowly. "She's doing things, she's getting places. I'm just... I'm just a cheap trophy to put on someone's shelf, someday."

"I - I guess I just wanted to prove that I could do this just as well as Holly could. I know - it's just a small mission, minimum action and maximum paperwork, most likely. But it's a step, right? I mean, I can prove to people that I'm worth something. It'll happen. I'm sure of it."

She looked so fragile, and yet so utterly _unbreakable_.

He sighed.

"Corporal Frond," he said, with a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "You aren't what everyone else makes you out to be. You're what _you_ make yourself out to be. And I think... I think you're on the right track, of becoming something wonderful."

"Some_one_," she corrected.

Trouble smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>Here's a Frond fic. Just because.<strong>

**Do let me know of any errors found in the story, I'll be sure to fix them right away.**


	28. Inebriated

Artemis was barfing.

This would've been of less concern, except Artemis was barfing on her shoes. Her _new _shoes.

"Artemis," she said tiredly. "What's going on? You called me up here for a celebration of our recent mission, not for you to _puke your guts out on my shoes_. These are brand new! They have special heaters to warm - "

"Sh - shut up for a second, Captain," Artemis said, blinking blearily and letting out another round of regurgitated food on her feet.

"What is that awful smell anyway?" she asked, swatting at the air. She leaned closer to Artemis and sniffed at him. "Is that... _alcohol? _Are you _drunk_? Artemis, I thought you said you never drank!"

"Formal occasion," he barely managed, before retching again, this time thankfully to the side and not at her. "M - Mother insisted on a glaaaass," he said, groaning the last word and trying to hug her at the waist. Unfortunately, she was rather short, which meant he ended up wrapping his arms around her head and awkwardly trying to pat the back of her neck.

"Artemis, get off me," she said, trying to edge away. "How did you get drunk from a _glass of wine_ anyway?"

"Haha," he laughed lamely, then looked at the ground with confusion. "'S a mystery to me. Miscalculation of blood alcohol content... mhmm."

"I know!" he suddenly shouted, letting go of Holly's head and pointing at the sky with a dramatic expression only someone inebriated could've managed. "Musta - musta been Beckett. Spiked my drink. That old... sock puppet. Gonna give him a good punch to the ankle, gonna."

Holly wondered how horrified the sober Artemis would be, if he saw himself right then, nodding along to his words with a dumb smile. Even if Artemis found a better target to hit than the ankle (Holly considered palming herself in the face), Beckett could overpower him in an instant.

"Ankles, you know!" Artemis shouted again. "Connect our feet to the rest of our legs! Don't know," he hollered into her ear. "If you've heard of them!"

He was kind of endearing when he was drunk, Holly considered. At least he wasn't smirking at her and insulting the basic police procedures and making weird complicated jokes to himself that nobody really understood.

"Artemis, you just need some water to flush it out of your system," Holly said. "I think. I can't... remember the last time I was drunk, actually, but - uh - I'm sure water will help."

"Are you absolutely suuuure, Polly?" he drawled. "Sure you're not going to poison me with this mysterious _water_? Hmm? Sure it doesn't contain harmful substances like _hydrogen_?"

"My name's Holly," she frowned. "And even if water's not going to do you any good, it certainly isn't going to do you any harm."

"_Eureka_!" he shouted. Boy, was inebriated Artemis a fan of shouting. "Got to tell you a _secret_, Po - Holly. But you have to promise _never to tell anyone _because we are super secret special agents and we have tumultuous secrets that will put the _fate of the world at stake_."

"Okay," Holly said, deadpan. "I think I can handle the pressure."

"It concerns Spiro and the international gorilla society..." Artemis leaned forward, and Holly backed away a little, and she could smell the alcohol and puke on his breath, which was not a pleasant combination, and then -

_Bam_.

Artemis slumped forward and fell face-first into the grass.

* * *

><p><strong>Personally, I wonder how Artemis could have <em>not<em> noticed Beckett spiking his drink, but oh well. Drunk!Artemis is paying a visit. I'm trying to set the number of chapters on this drabble fic and... fifty? Would fifty be a nice number?**

**Do let me know of any mistakes I make.**


	29. Hangover

Artemis woke up with an unpleasant taste in the back of his throat and a throbbing headache to boot.

_What... what is that smell?_

He swallowed painfully and blinked. The ceiling wobbled, or maybe the floor did, and he clutched at the nearest object to steady himself. It was furry, and weird, and he let out a shriek much unlike him to emit.

Clearing his throat, he rubbed at his eyes and looked carefully at the object. It was one of his mother's designer fur coats, painted an exuberant pink and covered with lettuce.

_What on earth? _was the first thought that came to mind. The second was, _Mother is going to kill me_.

Somewhere in the corner, the sound of flesh against wall was heard and Artemis jumped back for a second time in the last five minutes. A brown, disembodied hand was sticking out of his old box of recordings, groping around and finally grasping the edge of his mahogany table.

Artemis held his breath as the bodiless hand pulled itself up and became not-so-bodiless anymore.

"Holly?" he frowned. "What are you doing here in Fowl Manor?"

Holly was busy dusting herself from head to toe, brushing furiously at her shoulder and muttering rapid-fire words that Artemis could barely catch. He thought he heard, "_can't even remember_", "_honestly_", and "_going to beat him up soooo bad!"._

Artemis gulped.

Holly straightened up, cleared her throat, and started the longest rant Artemis had ever heard.

"- absolutely _infuriating_, do you know you called me up here to celebrate the success of our last mission? Do you just - _argh_, I take the pains to get up to the surface, and I think I might be in trouble with Trouble - oh, haha, funny wordplay there, but anyway, I took so many pains just to get up here, and then you have the audacity to be _drunk_ of all things - and guess what, you even _puked_ on my brand new LEP shoes, and those had nice hypersensitive heat sensors, but you were just all 'oh, nope, not gonna let poor old Holly, all worn out from her workload, catch a break or anything, I'm going to _puke_ _on those nice new shoes she has_,' and why would you do that, Artemis?"

"Just _why_ - oh, and let's not forget the fact that after a dizzy spell or two and several vomit sessions near the bushes, you got it in your mind that you wanted to play _dress-up_ and really, are you a six-year-old girl or something, Artemis? Something you want to share with the class? So anyway, I was like '_no Artemis you cannot be a fifty-six-year-old lady with a fancy fur coat and lipstick and powder caked on your face'_ and luckily you couldn't find your mother's bureau (funny story, it was five feet away, but I guess your sense of direction isn't improved by being inebriated, hah), but then you were all '_Holly you're a cake I must put you in your cake box'_ and I was going '_nooooo Artemis'_ but would you listen? _Of course not_."

"And then I was in the box and I don't know why but you were cuddling it and you were saying '_cake you must stay put in your box this is for Mother I think she would appreciate_ _it'_ and you brought me into the kitchen and wanted to _I don't know decorate me or something_ and you took out the cream and _argh_ - I think you were going to put it on my face or something, but naturally I pushed it out of your hands and you said '_Holly no why would you do that?!" _and you took out the _lettuce _but then you passed out on the floor and there was _lettuce everywhere! _So I dragged you to your room and I collapsed in that stupid Frond-forsaken box."

Holly paused from her verbal diarrhoea and heaved from the effort it took.

"Oh," Artemis said.

"Also you wanted to punch Beckett in the ankle," Holly said, with a straight face.

Five minutes later, Holly still would not quit laughing and everything sounded painful to Artemis' eardrums. Scrunching his eyebrows together, he massaged his temples and tried to work his jaw.

"Beckett," he muttered to himself. "You better watch out."

* * *

><p><strong>I got requests for a follow-up chapter from Chapter 28, and I didn't really have anything better on mind, so voila!<strong>


	30. Feral

Something was wrong.

The earth had turned itself upside down.

The apocalypse had arrived.

She looked broken._  
><em>

She should not - _could_ not look broken.

This was Opal Koboi, for Frond's sake.

He frowned, leaned forward and punched in a security code only four people in the building knew, stared unblinkingly at the scanner to have the DNA of his eye verified, let out a series of noises the computer took note of, took and held out a sample of his blood, bit into a waiting sponge for the saliva verification, and took out three keys, varied in their sizes and shapes.

The door swung open, its eight precautionary locks unlocking with a resounding clang.

She didn't look up when he entered the room, didn't respond when he took a seat opposite hers, only jumped with a start when he said softly, "hi".

"F-Foaly?" she asked, her voice cracked. Blinking tiredly, she swallowed and cleared her throat. "Hello. What business do you have here?" she asked coldly.

He didn't utter a word, only stared.

"Just say what you want, do what you will and leave, centaur," she said, reaching up to presumably subconsciously rub her eyes, before her eyes widened a little as she remembered, her wrists catching on her heavily-padlocked chains.

"Didn't we use to be friends?" Foaly asked suddenly, biting down on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw metallic taste of blood.

He felt himself scrutinised by her unblinking eyes, her emotionless stares, her hollow pupils.

"Rivals, maybe," she said. "Friends, no. Never. Not with one like you."

He stared at her, the cut on her lip and the abrasion on her forehead, the swelling bruise on her left eye that almost squeezed it shut.

"Friendly rivals," he said.

"Impossible," she scoffed, before her eyes dropped to the table, away from his face. "At least, not after you stole my rightful prize."

"Does it matter?" he asked, unable to comprehend. "We were in _college_! We were barely adults! Come on, Opal - "

"Don't call me that," she snarled. "Only my... Nobody calls me that!"

A pause.

"It was supposed to be _mine_!" she said, left eye completely squeezed shut as her eyes narrowed. Somehow she still managed the intimidating look when she was locked up and beaten up. "I _deserved_ it, not you and your stupid iris-cam!"

Pride.

So much pride.

Pride as bruised as the her ugly, purple eye.

"Oh, Koboi," he sighed. "Would it help if I gave that stupid medal to you right now? That blasted thing that I never had much use for anyway? Would it reverse all.. _this_ if I called those judges here today and told them to write an eight-foot essay on why you should've won and why my product would never be as ingenious as yours? If they retracted their decision and declared you the winner instead? I would even try to build a time machine, Koboi - just give the word. What do you _want_?"

"I.." she hesitated. "I just... I - I wanted..."

"Yes?" he pressed.

"I wanted..." she swallowed, looking down at her lap, her bangs covering most of her face so that all Foaly could see was a tiny, dark-haired, faceless figure. She muttered something, but the words were too quiet for him to hear.

"What did you say?" he asked, leaning forward and reaching out a hand to put on her shoulder -

Before he could comprehend what had happened, his head was squashed painfully against the tables sideways, something sharp pressing into his neck. He could feel beads of blood dripping. For a small creature, she sure had boundless amounts of energy.

"_Sentiment_," her words were whispered fiercely, but with satisfaction, into his ear. He could practically picture her smirk.

"Now," she said, pulling him up roughly, her knife still trained against his throbbing vein. "You're going to unlock that door."

Black strands of hair were wildly strewn around her face. Her grin was blinding, deadly, victorious, even her bruises and cuts seemed to diminish under her vicious triumph.

She was feral.

* * *

><p><strong>AU-ish? I guess? Where Koboi is being held in custody by the LEP before her trial? I dunno, man.<strong>

**Let me know of any errors in the story.**


	31. Constellations

"I used to hate you, you know."

Nonchalant.

Completely and utterly deadpan.

"What?" Artemis said, getting up from the field they were lying on, back ram-rod straight with an expression of disbelief. They were actually outside for once, courtesy of Butler's great planning and Beckett's deviousness. "What?" he repeated.

"It's true, I did," Myles said, staring at the constellations. He could see several recognizable ones, out here in the woods by Fowl Manor, away from the light pollution of the city.

"But- why?" Artemis asked. Myles thought he could see quite a bit of hurt in his expression, other than confusion.

"Well," Myles said, frowning. "You were just... a lot like me. Except you were first. And you were better."

Artemis opened his mouth to say something, but Myles cut him off.

"I know, I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "You don't have to give me the whole lecture on how we're all vastly different and 'a sense of individuality is important' and 'we're all special snowflakes'. I've had it plenty of times, thanks to Beckett. I'm just saying. I used to hate you."

Artemis stared at him for a long while. Myles felt uncomfortable, being scrutinized by his older brother. The shade of his pupils, the shape of his nose, the line of his jaw, all taken in by his piercing gaze. Furrowing his eyebrows, Myles looked away.

"I used to envy you."

At this, he snapped back towards the eldest Fowl son.

"_What_?" Myles asked, absolutely nonplussed. "Wh-why?"

Artemis blinked.

"You're... you're _you_! You practically have the world in your hands!"

Artemis continued staring at him without a single change in expression.

"You had a father and a mother who loved you," Artemis said.

"Could you be less cryptic?" Myles said, exasperated. "They're _your_ parents too."

"I didn't have parents, for a very long time," Artemis answered. "I'm still trying to adapt, to be honest."

"Adapt to having parents?" Myles asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're adopted?" he gasped._  
><em>

Artemis snorted and jostled his elbow a little. "Don't you think we look a little too similar for us to be unrelated?"

"True," Myles conceded. "So... what did you mean?"

Artemis sighed. "Let's just say that for a while, my only family was an absent, cold hero, a hollow shell for a responsibility and family values I had been influenced to adopt since a young age."

"Oh," Myles said, still a little uncomprehending. And then he remembers a conversation at midnight, fingers tracing the lines of a palm and tea shared with soothing words, his eyes pressed painfully against a keyhole and his ears desperately trying to catch snippets of a conversation he didn't truly understand, watching silently as a stranger comforted his brother, a brother he could not recognize.

A brother with disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes that let out whimpers of pain that would never have left his actual's brother, that groaned of agony and sorrow that his actual brother could not possibly have experienced, simply because his older brother was Artemis Fowl the Second, and that brother was practically invincible.

When that particular night ends, Myles is haunted by the vision of his brother's head buried in his hands, his brother's shoulders heaving in a mesmerizing, painful rhythm, his brother's voice cracking as he clenches his fingers into a fist and declares war and vengeance upon the world and everyone in it. The words that linger in his mind burn a hole through it, whispers of _she didn't remember me _and _what if everything that's happened is a dream and he's still back in Russia, still suffering, still dying?_

"_Oh_," Myles said a second time, and finally, he understood.

* * *

><p><strong>A reviewer requested this, so voila! Regarding something another reviewer mentioned, yes, Koboi was held in Atlantis, but I did mention in the last chapter that it was kind of AU-ish.<strong>

**Oh, and this chapter is completely unrelated to the Sibling Rivalries fics. This happens in a universe where that doesn't happen, where Myles still thinks Artemis has everything he doesn't.**

**I think it's very important to draw the line between Myles and Artemis - Artemis has more confidence, more self-control; Myles probably has a better moral compass. I'm not saying Artemis lacks moral fiber, I mean, his experiences practically guarantee that, but having a less traumatic childhood probably sets Myles apart. **

**Three guesses who the stranger comforting Artemis is.**


	32. Grin

"You need to stop smiling so much, you'll give the whole plan away," Artemis frowned.

"Yeah, Myles, you always complain about _me_ smiling too much," Beckett said with a glare, fingers trying to push the corner of Myles' lips downward.

"Alright, alright, get your filthy fingers off me, I'll stop smiling!" Myles said, swatting at Beckett with a bundle of newspapers.

"Okay," Artemis sighed, rubbing his temples. "Let's go over the plan again. I'll keep the Khans occupied over here, by the hangar, while Beckett sneaks into the tower's control base to disable the security in the vault. Myles goes to the head of facilities, acts like Khan's assistant. Now, of course, Khan's assistant has a reputation of- Myles, you're smiling again."

"Sorry!" Myles said, burying his face in his hands.

"Myles, dude, stop doing that, it isn't cool," Beckett quipped. "You know Khan's assistant has this big reputation among the higher-ups, right? He's never been _seen_, of course, so this should be relatively simple, but if you keep smiling then the whole cover's blown!"

"Don't call me 'dude'," Myles groaned into his hands, not moving from his position.

"Beckett's right, the entire cover's blown if you can't keep a straight face, Myles," Artemis said, turning from his position by the monitor to face them fully. "Look, you two were the ones that volunteered to help out in this mission, but if you can't take the job seriously-"

"No, wait!" Myles said, grasping at the handles of his chair. "I'm taking this _very_ seriously, trust me!"

"Yeah, Artemis, give us a chance, we won't screw up," Beckett promised. "You don't have to worry about us getting hurt, we're eighteen, we can take care of ourselves."

"I'm not worried about-" Artemis stopped short, brows furrowing. He _was_ kind of worried about them. "Alright, I'll let you to stay in on the task, but try to perform your job to the best of your ability. Myles, what were you even smiling about? There's nothing funny about the situation, the Khans have taken away lives without mercy or care."

Artemis certainly had not ever had trouble with keeping a straight face. In fact, Artemis used to have plenty of trouble showing any signs of emotion. This was not something he had ever experienced.

"I just-" Myles said, biting his lip. "It's all so _exciting! _We've always wanted to be in on your cases, to be able to work with you and now all of a sudden this is happening and this is real and _wow_, I just never expected this to be happening so soon!"

"I know!" Beckett gushed suddenly, leaning forward in his seat. "I was trying to contain my emotions because Artemis was being a grumpy killjoy-" at this, Artemis made a sound of discontent, "- but it's all so _cool_! We're kicking all these bad guys' butts, one at a time!"

Artemis swallowed, watching his little brothers high-five each other. This was the vibrant life, the raw energy he might have had if his childhood had been happier, if his father had not been kidnapped, if his mother had not become mentally ill.

There was nothing he could do about the past, of course. Artemis would be a changed person forever, but this was beautiful, this was important. Artemis felt a small smile edge its way onto his face, incomparable to his twin brothers' full-blown grins, but still a smile.

"Come on," Artemis said, putting his arms around his brothers' shoulders, a rare gesture that had them reeling back with shock. "The Khans will never know what hit them."

* * *

><p><strong>Uhhh I really want to write a Butler fic but every time I type I just keep writing Myles Fowl. Hm. Unfortunate. Let me know of any errors!<strong>


	33. Interrogation

"What were you doing by our safe site?" His gaze! It was almost predatory! What was wrong with this man?

"I- I was just-" he sobbed, clutching desperately at the arms of the chair he was tied down to, the scruff of his neck tugged upwards forcefully by the crazy man he was being held captive by.

"Just what?" the man snarled, bearing his teeth. _My Lord_, he thought, almost fainting. It was almost mesmerizing. He looked like a mixture between a lion and a snake. A chimera?

"I said," the man snarled again, his face getting nearer and nearer. "Just _what_?"

"J- just sightseeing," he whimpered, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

"Hah!" Chimera-man let out a laugh that was not in anyway happy or carefree. It sounded deranged, if anything else, and he let out another whimper at the thought. "That's one excuse I've never heard before."

"It- it's true!" he said desperately. "I got lost on my way to a restaurant my fiancee and I had heard about. She's probably really worried about me as we speak!"

"Not bad," Chimera-man said, shoving him roughly against the back of his chair. "Bringing up fake family members in a ploy to gain sympathy. But you won't fool me."

"It's true!" he said, sobbing blatantly now and practically shoving his ring finger into the Chimera-man's face." I even have an engagement ring! Please, just let me go!"

Chimera-man scoffed. "If you had a backup story about a fiancee, you would've prepared an engagement ring long before I even thought of it. It makes no difference. Besides," he hissed. "This is a protected area and I have guards stationed _everywhere_."

"Th- they must've missed me, then!" he pleaded. "Please, I won't tell anyone about your safe site, just let me go, I beg of you!"

"They wouldn't miss a rabbit in a burrow six feet underground, it's impossible that they wouldn't have seen you stumbling around like a buffalo.

"Human error!" he screamed. "It happens! Please don't kill me!"

Chimera-man stared. He felt like he was being examined by a surgeon, like his very soul was being scrutinized by this man-giant. He was being observed, pulled apart - did Chimera-man know that he checked through his fiancee's recent contacts last night? Did he know that-

"Pathetic." He _did_?

Chimera-man got up and silently untied his binds, ignoring his gaping expression. Without a word, the Chimera-man unlocked the door.

"Wh-what's going on? Are you bringing me to the torture chamber or something, you sick nutcase?"

"One of my men will escort you out," Chimera-man said nonchalantly. "If you tell anyone about this... session, I will find you and _burn you_."

Taking a gulp and nodding fearfully, he practically ran out of the room, bumping into someone in the process. Seeing a pasty face and aristocratic features, he swore to himself and continued on his journey out. _This place is crazy_.

"What happened? Is that _blood _on the floor?"

"You're welcome," Butler said. Artemis shook his head disbelievingly.

* * *

><p><strong>Butler, because Butler is awesome. Let me know of errors.<strong>


	34. Shame

"Yo," a voice called out, and Arno looked up only to be hit in the face with a canned drink. His hands caught the can dropping down instinctively, but the impact of it against his face knocked him out of breath for a moment.

Rage swirled quickly within him, and the can almost crushed within his palms as he got up, barked out a harsh, "The hell was that for?"

A snort was his only response, the owner of the voice a lanky, tall girl with eyes like a puppy and a smile like the sun. She threw her head back, let out a loud, unrestrained laugh. "Chill, I got you your favourite drink."

Arno looked down, blinked, and broke into a smile. The familiar red label splayed lazily across the aluminium can informed him that the drink was, indeed, his favourite drink, and he picked at the cap until a stream of froth bubbled forth from within, covering his hands with a cool, sweet drink.

"See? That's a nice smile," the girl said, putting an arm around him, and something about the summer air and his sister's cheerful smile made his heart thrum with blinding happiness. He couldn't help but let his smile turn even wider, until his eyes are hidden in small cracks of skin.

"Thanks, sis."

For now, life is beautiful. He is young, he is energetic, and he is invincible.

He has difficulties with anger management sometimes, but it has not started to bother him to the point where he begins to bite through his lips with anxiety, where he lies awake at night with hands shaking, wondering if he'll end up killing people one day.

He has not reached the dreaded day where he loses his temper and flings a table at a few men in blinding rage.

He has not experienced mind-numbing shock, his entire body shaking with an indescribable, unadulterated feeling that burns him from head to toe, trying to stop trembling as a police inspector looks him down from her horn-rimmed glasses, saying in a clipped tone that he permanently injured a man. He has not felt the electricity coursing through his body as he stands outside a clinic, not the good, buzzing sort but the terrified sort that muddles his brain and makes it unable for him to think, trying to cope with the fact that this man with the mop of brown hair and dull blue eyes may never walk again because of him.

He has not stared at a grey wall in his cell for a few days straight, felt that feeling of utter uselessness, thought the thoughts of never coming home again for a long, long time.

He has not felt the relief and confusion when that very cell door swings open and a man walks in with confident eyes and a mischievous grin. He has not felt the power shivering at his fingertips when the man offers to bail him out of jail, has not felt that power falter and die away immediately after when the man states his conditions, tells him that he is meant to use what he hates most (his power, always his undying _power_, that sudden urge to just _crush _and _destroy_).

He has not felt the frustration of being indebted to a person for all eternity, of doing all of one man's labour, his dirty, grimy work, digging his nails in and barely wincing when they chip on false hopes and useless regrets.

He has not felt the tears jolt, surprised, out of his eyes and make their way streaking down his face when he denies the offer to finish up his work and leave for his home in the countryside of New Zealand; goes home to cry himself to sleep, gets his shock of black hair bleached blond, orders for several tattoos to be drawn all over his body, its tendrils curling possessively on his hip and resting its tip on his shoulder, marked forever, permanently, with the sting of needles jabbing into his skin.

He has not felt the grim satisfaction of observing himself in the mirror, fingering each spiky shadow of his tattoo, its very presence reassuring him that he will never dare to step foot on New Zealand soil again, that even if anyone he knew from Before Spiro saw him again, they would never recognise the hard set of his jaw and the feral look in his eyes.

The tattoo and the dye will be permanent, because his shame will be permanent. There will be blood (so much blood) on his hands, and even the thought of letting his sister with her sunny smile and bright eyes anywhere _near_ him will sicken him, make him visit the toilet to hurl the contents of his stomach out, the vomit lining the floor like a morbid grin. Eventually, he will stop thinking about his family altogether. He will feel like he does not even deserve to _think_ about them, because he is filthy and they are not.

But no. This Arno Blunt, with his crooked smile and thick black hair and his stupid crush on the girl that sits three rows in front of him in Math... this Arno is still seventeen, still innocent and carefree.

This Arno has not yet met the tornado that is Jon Spiro.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, this is long for my usual drabble. What happened? Why do I suddenly have so many headcanons about Arno Blunt? Who knows?!<strong>

**I think I might be stopping C'est La Vie at Chapter 35. I get writer's block every time I try to sit down and write, plus to be honest although I was really 'into' the book series when I was reading it, that passion has kind of died down to a more 'eh' sort of thing. But I like to end things on a nice, dividable-by-five number, so 35 it is!**

**It's been nice writing this though, it gave me a chance to explore the minor characters that are never much explained. **


	35. End

There was a familiar low buzz of white noise in the background, and a fire was crackling near their feet, an impromptu last-minute gathering that they'd thrown together to savour his last few moments in their world.

"Hi," Holly said, her voice only a whisper, but it echoed for eons in Artemis' head.

"Hi," he whispered back. The moment felt sacred, the rest of his friends sitting haphazardly together on the field under the vast starry night, the love-grass caressing their ankles and the wind brushing against their faces.

"So," she said, swallowing. "This is it, then. Memory wipe for the rest of your life. No tricks now, eh? We've double-checked everything, you can't... can't evade from us this time," she choked. Her eyes were bright and wincing, but the tears that threatened to fall were being held back with her sheer willpower, the determination Artemis had always admired.

"Hey," he whispered. "Nothing can keep a Fowl down, right?"

She laughed, a watery laugh that could sum up what everyone else was feeling right now. In a corner, her feet tucked under her and her hair spilling over her shoulders, Juliet was already sniffling. "I'll miss all of you," she said mournfully to Mulch, who was seated right next to her and was not even bothering trying not to cry.

Butler was speaking in solemn, low tones to Trouble, describing something with an encompassing wave of his large, rough hands. Commander Kelp nodded, his eyes downcast and his shoulders hunched forward as though bracing for a painful impact. "Cheer up, old friend," Butler nudged with a finger, his arm around the size of all of the stocky elf. Trouble seemed unperturbed by the heaving mountain of a man, and instead let out a sad smile in response.

"I can't take this whole depressing atmosphere," Foaly announced loudly, squeezing himself into the space between Artemis and Holly. "It just isn't my style."

"Ah, of course, the esteemed centaur, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Artemis said. On his face shone a small smile, nothing like his devious grins and calculative smirks.

"Oh, come on," Foaly waved a dismissive hand. "You know I definitely would have come, but it's sad enough that you three are going to be wiped without the rest of these losers acting like it's a d'Arvitting funeral."

"Oh, really?" Holly asked, tapping a finger against her chin. "But something _is _dying here today."

"Don't start with that poetic bullshit," Foaly said skeptically.

Holly let out a laugh, clear and bright. "No, I'm not good with poetry. How about you, Mud Boy?"

Artemis held up two hands defensively, but he was still smiling. "I'm far better with logical thinking than poetry-writing."

"Didn't you write a bunch of romance stories under a pseudo- " before Holly could finish her sentence, a pale, thin hand was clasped against her mouth, urging her not to say anything more.

"That was a phase and I refuse to talk about it," Artemis insisted stubbornly, his mouth twisted into something like a childish pout. Holly wanted to snort with incredulity, but there was still a hand against her mouth.

"You're all a bunch of failures," Juliet said loudly, getting up and dusting the grass off her pants. "_I'll _do the honours. I don't know about all of you, but Holly's right. Something is dying here today. Something important, and special. I think you all know what it is."

A solemn air set about the field by Fowl Manor, where many a shenanigan and conversation had taken place. Everyone held their breaths subconsciously, even Foaly.

"And that is," Juliet paused, with a smile. "Mulch's _tear ducts_. Jesus Christ, dwarf, you've been crying for two hours, I thought you'd have been over and done with it by this point. Even I only sniffled for a minute or two!"

The tension broke, and friends laughed, forgetting the impending pain of the next moment. Unbidden, the hand clasped against Holly's mouth released its hold and traveled downwards to hold her hand reassuringly, rubbing circles into her palm with a thumb.

Foaly clapped his hands on their shoulders, swallowed down an itchy discomfort in his throat and let out a shaky breath.

"So, ladies, gentlemen, pasty Mud Boy. This is it, huh? The machine is set and ready to roll. An end is and has always been, after all, inevitable."

"End," echoed №1, who had been sitting uncharacteristically quietly by the fire, poking at the embers with a melancholy expression. "Conclusion, termination, resolution."

"Yeah," Artemis said, a little breathlessly. "Well... c'est la vie, I suppose."

* * *

><p><strong>I thought this would be a suitable end. It's been a long journey, guys. In fact, nearly 11 months. I went through a lot of writing phases with this fic, but I'm glad that I wrote this.<strong>


End file.
